ua 


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FROM 


TEN     BOYS    from 
CHARLES    DICKENS 


WfMARSH 


I 

MOBB'S. 


TEN  BOYS  from 
DICKENS 

By 

Kate  Dickinson  Sweetser 

Illustrated  by 
GEORGE  ALFRED  WILLIAMS 


Harper  &  Brothers 
New  York  and  London 


BOOKS  BY 
KATE   DICKINSON    SWEETSER 

TEN  AMERICAN   GIRLS  FROM  HISTORY.     Illustrated. 
BOOK   OF   INDIAN   BRAVES.     Illustrated. 
BOYS  AND   GIRLS  FROM  ELIOT.     Illustrated. 
BOYS   AND   GIRLS  FROM   THACKERAY.     Illustrated. 
TEN   BOYS  FROM   DICKENS.     Illustratrated. 
TEN  BOYS   FROM   HISTORY.     Illusrated. 
TEN   GIRLS  FROM   DICKENS.     Illustrated. 
TEN   GIRLS  FROM   HISTORY.     Illustrated. 
TEN   GREAT  ADVENTURERS.     Illustrated. 


HARPER    &    BROTHERS,   NEW    YORK 
[ESTABLISHED  1817] 


COPYRIGHT      1901      BY 
ROBERT  HOWARD  RUSSELL 


PREFACE 


IN  this  small  volume  there  are  presented  as  complete 
stories  the  boy-lives  portrayed  in  the  works  of 
Charles  Dickens.  The  boys  are  followed  only  to  the 
threshold  of  manhood,  and  in  all  cases  the  original  text 
of  the  story  has  been  kept,  except  where  of  necessity  a 
phrase  or  paragraph  has  been  inserted  to  connect  pas- 
sages;—  while  the  net-work  of  characters  with  which 
the  boys  are  surrounded  in  the  books  from  which  they 
are  taken,  has  been  eliminated,  except  where  such  char- 
acters seem  necessary  to  the  development  of  the  story 
in  hand. 

Charles  Dickens  was  a  loyal  champion  of  all  boys, 
and  underlying  his  pen  pictures  of  them  was  an  earnest 
desire  to  remedy  evils  which  he  had  found  existing  in 
London  and  its  suburbs.  Poor  Jo,  who  was  always 
being  "moved  on,"  David  Copperfield,  whose  early  life 
was  a  picture  of  Dickens'  own  childhood,  workhouse- 
reared  Oliver,  and  the  miserable  wretches  at  Dotheboy 
Hall  were  no  mere  creations  of  an  author's  vivid  imagi- 
nation. They  were  descriptions  of  living  boys,  the 
victims  of  tyranny  and  oppression  which  Dickens  felt 
he  must  in  some  way  alleviate.  And  so  he  wrote  his 


2075459 


PREFACE 

novels  with  the  histories  in  them  which  affected  the 
London  public  far  more  deeply,  of  course,  than  they 
affect  us,  and  awakened  a  storm  of  indignation  and 
protest. 

Schools,  work-houses,  and  other  public  institutions 
were  subjected  to  a  rigorous  examination,  and  in  con- 
sequence several  were  closed,  while  all  were  greatly 
improved.  Thus,  in  his  sketches  of  boy-life,  Dickens 
accomplished  his  object. 

My  aim  is  to  bring  these  sketches,  with  all  their 
beauty  and  pathos,  to  the  notice  of  the  young  people  of 
to-day.  If  through  this  volume  any  boy  or  girl  should 
be  aroused  to  a  keener  interest  in  the  great  writer,  and 
should  learn  to  love  him  and  his  work,  my  labour  will 
be  richly  repaid. 

KATE  DICKINSON  SWEETSER 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


TINY  TIM 3 

OLIVER  TWIST n 

TOMMY  TRADDLES 45 

"DEPUTY" 53 

DOTHEBOYS  HALL 61 

DAVID  COPPERFIELD 89 

KIT  NUBBLES 123 

Jo,  THE  CROSSING  SWEEPER 147 

PAUL  DOMBEY 163 

PIP 191 


TINY    TIM 


TEN  BOYS  from 
CHARLES  DICKENS 

TINY  TIM 


CHARLES   DICKENS  has  given  us  no  picture  of 
Tiny  Tim,  but  at  the  thought  of  him  comes  a  vision 
of  a  delicate  figure,  less  boy  than  spirit.     We  seem 
to  see  a  face  oval  in  shape  and  fair  in  colouring. 
We  see  eyes  deep-set  and  grey,  shaded  by  lashes  as  dark  as 
the  hair  parted  from  the  middle  of  his  low  forehead.     We  see 
a  sunny,  patient  smile  which  from  time  to  time  lights  up  his 
whole  face,  and  a  mouth  whose  firm,  strong  lines  reveal  clearly 
the  beauty  of  character,  and  the  happiness  of  disposition,  which 
were  Tiny  Tim's. 

He  was  a  rare  little  chap  indeed,  and  a  prime  favourite  as 
well.  Ask  the  Crachits  old  and  young,  whose  smile  they 
most  desired,  whose  applause  they  most  coveted,  whose  errands 
they  almost  fought  with  one  another  to  run,  whose  sadness 
or  pain  could  most  affect  the  family  happiness,  and  with  one 
voice  they  would  answer,  "  Tim's  !  " 

It  was  Christmas  Day,  and  in  all  the  suburbs  of  London 
there  was  to  be  no  merrier  celebration  than  at  the  Crachits. 
To  be  sure,  Bob  Crachit  had  but  fifteen  "  Bob "  himself  a 
week  on  which  to  clothe  and  feed  all  the  little  Crachits,  but 
what  they  lacked  in  luxuries  they  made  up  in  affection  and 
contentment,  and  would  not  have  changed  places,  one  of  them, 
with  any  king  or  queen. 

3 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

While  Bob  took  Tiny  Tim  to  church,  preparations  for  the 
feast  were  going  on  at  home.  Mrs.  Crachit  was  dressed  in  a 
twice-turned  gown,  but  brave  in  ribbons  which  are  cheap  and 
make  a  goodly  show  for  sixpence;  and  she  laid  the  cloth, 
assisted  by  Belinda,  second  of  her  daughters,  also  brave  in 
ribbons,  while  Master  Peter  Crachit  plunged  a  fork  into  a 
saucepan  full  of  potatoes,  getting  the  corners  of  his  monstrous 
shirt  collar  (Bob's  private  property,  conferred  upon  his  son 
and  heir  in  honour  of  the  day)  into  his  mouth,  but  rejoiced  to 
find  himself  so  finely  dressed,  and  yearning  to  show  his  linen 
in  the  fashionable  Parks. 

Two  smaller  Crachits,  boy  and  girl,  came  tearing  in, 
screaming  that  outside  the  baker's  they  had  smelt  the  goose, 
and  known  it  for  their  own ;  and  basking  in  luxurious 
thoughts  of  sage  and  onions,  these  young  Crachits  danced  about 
the  table,  and  exalted  Master  Peter  Crachit  to  the  skies,  while 
he  (not  proud,  although  his  collar  almost  choked  him)  blew  the 
fire,  until  the  slow  potatoes,  bubbling  up,  knocked  loudly  at 
the  saucepan-lid  to  be  let  out  and  peeled. 

"  What  has  ever  got  your  precious  father,  then  ? "  said 
Mrs.  Crachit.  "  And  your  brother,  Tiny  Tim !  And  Martha 
war  n't  as  late  last  Christmas  Day  by  half  an  hour  !  " 

"  Here 's  Martha,  mother !  "  cried  the  two  young  Crachits. 
"  Hurrah  I  there 's  such  a  goose,  Martha  !  " 

"  Why,  bless  your  heart  alive,  dear,  how  late  you  are  ! "  said 
Mrs.  Crachit,  kissing  the  daughter,  who  lived  away  from  home, 
a  dozen  times.  "  Well,  never  mind  as  long  as  you  are  come  !  " 

"  There 's  father  coming !  "  cried  the  two  young  Crachits, 
who  were  everywhere  at  once.  "  Hide,  Martha,  hide  !  " 

So  Martha  hid  herself,  and  in  came  little  Bob,  the  father, 
with  at  least  three  feet  of  comforter  hanging  down  before  him, 
and  his  threadbare  clothes  darned  up  and  brushed  to  look 
seasonable ;  and  Tiny  Tim  upon  his  shoulder.  Why  was  the 

4 


TINY     TIM 

child  thus  carried  ?  Alas  for  Tiny  Tim,  he  bore  a  little 
crutch  and  had  his  limbs  supported  by  an  iron  frame !  Patient 
little  Tim, — never  was  he  heard  to  utter  a  fretful  or  complain- 
ing word.  No  wonder  they  cherished  him  so  tenderly  ! 

"  Why,  where 's  our  Martha  ? "  cried  Bob  Crachit  looking 
round. 

"  Not  coming ! "  said  Mrs.  Crachit. 

"  Not  coming  ?  "  said  Bob,  with  a  sudden  declension  in  his 
ligh  spirits ;  for  he  had  been  Tim's  blood  horse  all  the  way 
from  church,  and  had  come  home  rampant. 

"  Not  coming  upon  Christmas  Day  !  " 

Martha  did  n't  like  to  see  him  disappointed,  if  it  were  only 
in  joke;  so  she  ran  out  from  behind  the  closet  door,  and  ran 
into  his  arms,  while  the  two  young  Crachits  hustled  Tiny 
Tim,  and  bore  him  off  into  the  wash-house,  that  he  might  hear 
the  pudding  singing  in  the  copper. 

"And  how  did  little  Tim  behave?"  asked  Mrs.  Crachit; 
when  she  had  rallied  Bob  on  his  credulity,  and  Bob  had 
hugged  his  daughter  to  his  heart's  content. 

"  As  good  as  gold/'  said  Bob,  "  and  better.  Somehow  he 
gets  thoughtful,  sitting  by  himself  so  much,  and  thinks  the 
strangest  things  you  ever  heard.  He  told  me,  coming  home, 
that  c  he  hoped  the  people  saw  him  in  the  church,  because  he 
was  a  cripple,  and  it  might  be  pleasant  to  them  to  remember 
upon  Christmas  Day,  Who  made  lame  beggars  walk  and  blind 
men  see.' ' 

Bob's  voice  was  tremulous  when  he  told  them  this,  and  it 
trembled  more  when  he  said  that  Tiny  Tim  was  growing 
strong  and  hearty. 

His  active  little  crutch  was  heard  upon  the  floor,  and  back 
came  Tiny  Tim  before  another  word  was  spoken,  escorted  by 
his  brother  and  sister  to  his  stool  before  the  fire ;  and  while 
Bob  compounded  some  hot  mixture  in  a  jug  and  put  it  on 

5 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

the  hob  to  simmer,  Master  Peter  and  the  two  young  Crachits 
went  to  fetch  the  goose,  with  which  they  soon  returned  in  high 
procession. 

Such  a  bustle  ensued  that  you  might  have  thought  the 
goose  the  rarest  of  all  birds,  and  in  truth  it  was  something 
very  like  it  in  that  house.  Mrs.  Crachit  made  the  gravy  hiss- 
ing hot ;  Master  Peter  mashed  the  potatoes  with  incredible 
vigour ;  Miss  Belinda  sweetened  up  the  apple  sauce ;  Martha 
dusted  the  hot  plates  ;  Bob  took  Tiny  Tim  beside  him  in  a 
corner  at  the  table  ;  the  two  young  Crachits  set  chairs  for  every- 
body, not  forgetting  themselves,  and  mounting  guard  upon 
their  posts,  crammed  spoons  into  their  mouths,  lest  they  should 
shriek  for  goose  before  their  turn  came  to  be  helped.  At  last 
the  dishes  were  set  on  and  grace  was  said.  It  was  succeeded 
by  a  breathless  pause,  as  Mrs.  Crachit,  looking  slowly  along 
the  carving  knife,  prepared  to  plunge  it  in  the  breast.  When 
she  did  one  murmur  of  delight  arose  all  round  the  board,  and 
even  Tiny  Tim,  excited  by  the  two  young  Crachits,  beat 
on  the  table  with  the  handle  of  his  knife,  and  feebly  cried 
"  Hurrah  !  " 

There  never  was  such  a  goose !  its  tenderness  and  size, 
flavour  and  cheapness,  were  the  themes  of  universal  admira- 
tion. Eked  out  by  apple-sauce  and  mashed  potatoes,  every  one 
had  enough,  and  the  youngest  Crachits  were  steeped  in  sage 
and  onion  to  the  eyebrows  !  But  now,  the  plates  being  changed, 
Mrs.  Crachit  left  the  room  alone  —  too  nervous  to  bear  wit- 
nesses—  to  take  the  pudding  up,  and  bring  it  iri. 

Suppose  it  should  not  be  done  enough !  Suppose  it 
should  break  in  turning  out !  All  sorts  of  horrors  were 
supposed. 

Hallo !  a  great  deal  of  steam  !  The  pudding  was  out 
of  the  copper,  and  in  half  a  minute  Mrs.  Crachit  entered, 
flushed,  but  smiling  proudly,  with  the  pudding  blazing  in 

6 


TINY      TIM 

ignited  brandy,  and  with  Christmas  holly  stuck  into  the 
top. 

Its  appearance  was  hailed  with  cheers  and  with  exclama- 
tions of  joyous  admiration.  Then,  when  it  was  safely  landed 
upon  the  table,  what  a  racket  and  clatter  there  was  !  Such 
stories  and  songs  and  jokes,  and  such  riotous  applause  no 
one  can  imagine  who  was  not  there  to  see  and  hear  ! 

At  last  the  dinner  was  all  done,  the  cloth  was  cleared, 
the  hearth  swept,  and  the  fire  made  up.  The  compound  in 
the  jug  being  tasted  and  pronounced  perfect,  apples  and 
oranges  were  put  upon  the  table  and  a  shovelful  of  chestnuts 
on  the  fire.  Then  all  the  Crachit  family  drew  round  the 
hearth,  Tiny  Tim  very  close  to  his  father's  side,  upon  his 
little  stool,  while  he  gave  them  a  song  in  his  plaintive  little 
voice,  about  a  lost  child,  and  sang  it  very  well  indeed. 

At  Bob  Crachit' s  elbow  stood  the  family  display  of  glass ; 
two  tumblers  and  a  custard  cup  without  a  handle.  These 
held  the  hot  stuff  from  the  jug,  however,  as  well  as  golden 
goblets  would  have  done,  and  Bob  served  it  out  with  beam- 
ing looks,  while  the  chestnuts  sputtered  and  cracked  noisily. 
Then  Bob  proposed : 

"  A  merry  Christmas  to  us  all,  my  dears,  —  God  bless  us  !  " 

which  was  just  what  was  needed  to  bring  the  joy  and  enthu- 
siasm to  a  climax.  Cheer  after  cheer  went  up,  over  and  over 
the  toast  was  re-echoed,  and  then  one  was  added  for  the  family 
ogre,  Bob's  hard  employer,  Mr.  Scrooge,  and  one  for  old  and 
for  young,  for  sick  and  for  well,  for  Father  Christmas  and  for 
Father  Crachit  and  for  all  the  little  Crachits ;  —  for  every- 
one everywhere  who  had  heard  the  holiday  bells,  there  was  a 
toast  given.  Then  when  the  uproar  ceased  for  a  moment, 
low  and  sweet  spoke  Tiny  Tim  alone : 

"  God  bless  us  every  one  !  " 
7 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

Clearly  it  rang  out  in  the  earnest  childish  voice.  There  was 
a  sudden  hush  of  the  merriment,  while  Bob's  arm  stole  round 
his  son  with  a  firmer  grasp  and  for  a  moment  the  shadow  of  a 
coming  Christmas  fell  upon  him,  when  the  little  stool  would 
be  vacant  and  the  little  crutch  unused. 

Spirit  of  Tiny  Tim,  thy  childish  essence  was  from  God ! 
Thou  didst  not  know  that  in  the  benediction  of  lives  like 
thine,  is  given  the  answer  to  such  prayers.  Much  did  thy 
loved  ones  learn  from  thee;  much  can  the  world  learn  of 
the  nobility  of  patience  from  thy  sweet  child  life.  Unawares 
thou  wert  thyself  an  answer  to  thy  Christmas  prayer : 

"  God  bless  us  every  one  I  " 


OLIVER    TWIST 


OLIVER    TWIST 

OLIVER   TWIST   was   the   child   of  an  unknown 
woman  who  died  in  the  workhouse  of  an  English 
village,  almost  as  soon  as  her  babe  drew  his  first 
breath.     The  mother's  name  being  unknown,  the 
workhouse  officials  called  the  child  Oliver  Twist,  under  which 
title  he  grew  up.     For   nine   years  he  was  farmed  out  at  a 
branch  poorhouse,  where  with  twenty  or  thirty  other  children 
he  bore  all  the  miseries  consequent  on  neglect,  abuse,  and  star- 
vation.    He  was  then  removed  to  the  workhouse  proper  to  be 
taught  a  useful  trade. 

His  ninth  birthday  found  him  a  pale,  thin  child,  diminutive 
in  stature,  and  decidedly  small  in  circumference,  but  possessed 
of  a  good  sturdy  spirit,  which  was  not  broken  by  the  policy  of 
the  officials  who  tried  to  get  as  much  work  out  of  the  paupers 
as  possible,  and  to  keep  them  on  as  scant  a  supply  of  food  as 
would  sustain  life. 

The  boys  were  fed  in  a  large  stone  hall,  with  a  copper  at 
one  end,  out  of  which  the  gruel  was  ladled  at  meal-times.  Of 
this  festive  composition  each  boy  had  one  porringer,  and  no 
more  —  except  on  occasions  of  great  public  rejoicing,  when 
he  had  two  ounces  and  a  quarter  of  bread  besides.  The 
bowls  never  wanted  washing.  The  boys  polished  them  with 
their  spoons  till  they  shone  again ;  and  when  they  had  per- 
formed this  operation,  they  would  sit  staring  at  the  copper, 
as  if  they  could  have  devoured  the  very  bricks  of  which  it 
was  composed ;  sucking  their  fingers,  with  the  view  of  catch- 
ing up  any  stray  splashes  of  gruel  that  might  have  been  cast 
thereon. 

ii 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

Boys  have  generally  excellent  appetites.  Oliver  Twist  and 
his  companions  suffered  the  tortures  of  slow  starvation  for  three 
months :  at  last  they  got  so  voracious  and  wild  that  one  boy 
hinted  darkly  that  unless  he  had  another  basin  of  gruel  a  day, 
he  was  afraid  he  might  some  night  happen  to  eat  the  boy  who 
slept  next  him.  He  had  a  wild,  hungry,  eye  ;  and  they  implicitly 
believed  him.  A  council  was  held ;  lots  were  cast  who  should 
walk  up  to  the  master,  and  ask  for  more,  and  it  fell  to  Oliver 
Twist. 

The  evening  arrived  ;  the  boys  took  their  places.  The  gruel 
was  served  out,  and  a  long  grace  was  said.  The  gruel  disap- 
peared ;  the  boys  whispered  each  other,  and  winked  at  Oliver ; 
while  his  next  neighbours  nudged  him.  Child  as  he  was,  he  was 
desperate  with  hunger,  and  reckless  with  misery.  He  rose  and 
advancing  to  the  master,  basin  and  spoon  in  hand,  said,  some- 
what alarmed  at  his  own  temerity  : 

"  Please,  sir,  I  want  some  more  !  " 

The  master  was  a  fat,  healthy  man  ;  but  he  turned  very  pale. 
He  gazed  in  stupified  astonishment  on  the  small  rebel  for  some 
seconds,  and  then  clung  for  support  to  the  copper.  The 
assistants  were  paralysed  with  wonder;  the  boys  with  fear. 

"  What  ?  "  said  the  master  at  length,  in  a  faint  voice. 

"  Please,  sir,"  replied  Oliver,  "  I  want  some  more." 

The  master  aimed  a  blow  at  Oliver's  head  with  the  ladle ; 
pinioned  him  in  his  arms ;  and  shrieked  for  the  beadle,  and 
when  that  gentleman  appeared,  an  animated  discussion  took 
place.  Oliver  was  ordered  into  instant  confinement;  and 
a  bill  was  next  morning  pasted  on  the  outside  of  the  gate,  offer- 
ing a  reward  of  five  pounds  to  any  body  who  would  take 
Oliver  Twist  off  the  hands  of  the  parish.  In  other  words, 
five  pounds,  and  Oliver  Twist  were  offered  to  any  man  or 
woman  who  wanted  an  apprentice  to  any  trade,  business,  or 
calling. 

12 


OLIVER     TWIST 

Mr.  Sowerberry,  the  parish  undertaker,  finally  applied  for 
the  prize,  and  carried  Oliver  away  with  him,  which,  for  the 
poor  boy,  was  a  matter  of  falling  from  the  frying  pan  into  the 
fire,  and  in  his  short  career  as  undertaker's  assistant  he  even 

sighed  for  the  workhouse,  —  miserable  as  his  life  there    had 

&  * 

been.  At  the  undertaker's,  Oliver's  bed  was  in  the  shop.  The 
atmosphere  seemed  tainted  with  the  smell  of  coffins.  The 
recess  behind  the  counter  in  which  his  mattress  was  thrust, 
looked  like  a  grave.  His  food  was  broken  bits  left  from  the 
meals  of  others,  and  his  constant  companion  was  an  older  boy, 
Noah  Claypole,  who,  although  a  charity  boy  himself,  was  not 
a  workhouse  orphan,  and  therefore  considered  himself  in  a 
position  above  Oliver.  He  made  Oliver's  days  hideous  with 
his  abuse,  which  the  younger  boy  bore  as  quietly  as  he  could, 
until  the  day  when  Noah  made  a  sneering  remark  about 
Oliver's  dead  mother.  That  was  too  much.  Crimson  with 
fury,  Oliver  started  up,  seized  Noah  by  the  throat,  shook 
him  till  his  teeth  chattered,  and  then  with  one  heavy  blow, 
felled  him  to  the  ground. 

This  brought  about  a  violent  scene,  for  Noah  accused 
Oliver  of  attempting  to  murder  him,  and  Mrs.  Sowerberry, 
the  maid,  and  the  beadle,  —  who  had  been  hastily  summoned, 
—  agreed  that  Oliver  was  a  hardened  wretch,  only  fit  for  con- 
finement,  and  he  was  accordingly  placed  in  the  cellar,  till  the 
undertaker  came  in,  when  he  was  dragged  out  again  to  have 
the  story  retold.  To  do  Mr.  Sowerberry  justice,  he  would 
have  been  kindly  disposed  towards  Oliver,  but  for  the  preju* 
dice  of  his  wife  against  the  boy.  However,  to  satisfy  her, 
he  gave  Oliver  a  sound  beating,  and  shut  him  up  in  the  back 
kitchen  until  night,  when,  amidst  the  jeers  and  pointings  of 
Noah  and  Mrs.  Sowerberry,  he  was  ordered  up-stairs  to  his 
dismal  bed. 

It  was  then,  alone,  in  the  silence  of  the  gloomy  workshop, 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

that  Oliver  gave  way  to  his  feelings,  wept  bitterly,  and  resolved 
no  longer  to  bear  such  treatment.  Softly  he  undid  the  fasten- 
ings of  the  door,  and  looked  abroad.  It  was  a  cold  night. 
The  stars  seemed,  to  the  boy's  eyes,  farther  from  the  earth  than 
he  had  ever  seen  them  before  ;  there  was  no  wind ;  and  the 
sombre  shadows  looked  sepulchral  and  death-like,  from  being 
so  still.  He  softly  reclosed  the  door,  and  having  availed  him- 
self of  the  expiring  light  of  the  candle  to  tie  up  in  a  hand- 
kerchief the  few  articles  of  wearing  apparel  he  had,  sat  himself 
down  to  wait  for  morning. 

With  the  first  ray  of  light,  Oliver  arose,  and  again  unbarred 
the  door.  One  timid  look  around,  —  one  minute's  pause  of 
hesitation,  —  he  had  closed  it  behind  him. 

He  looked  to  the  right,  and  to  the  left,  uncertain  whither 
to  fly.  He  remembered  to  have  seen  the  waggons,  as  they 
went  out,  toiling  up  the  hill,  so  he  took  the  same  route ;  and 
arriving  at  a  footpath  which  he  knew  led  out  into  the  road, 
struck  into  it,  and  walked  quickly  on. 

For  seven  long  days  he  tramped  in  the  direction  of 
London,  tasting  nothing  but  such  scraps  of  meals  as  he  could 
beg  from  the  occasional  cottages  by  the  roadside.  On  the 
seventh  morning  he  limped  slowly  into  the  little  town  of 
Barnet,  and  as  he  was  resting  for  a  few  moments  on  the  steps 
of  a  public-house,  a  boy  crossed  over,  and  walking  close  to 
him,  said, 

"  Hullo  !  my  covey !     What 's  the  row  ?  " 

The  boy  who  addressed  this  inquiry  to  the  young  way- 
farer, was  about  his  own  age :  but  one  of  the  queerest  looking 
boys  that  Oliver  had  ever  seen.  He  was  a  snub-nosed,  flat- 
browed,  common-faced  boy  enough  ;  and  as  dirty  a  juvenile  as 
one  would  wish  to  see;  but  he  had  about  him  all  the  airs 
and  manners  of  a  man.  He  was  short,  with  bow-legs,  and 
little,  sharp,  ugly, "eyes.  His  hat  was  stuck  on  the  top  of 

14 


OLIVER     TWIST 

his  head,  and  he  wore  a  man's  coat  that  reached  nearly  to 
his  heels. 

"  Hullo,  my  covey  !  What 's  the  row  ?  "  said  this  strange 
young  gentleman  to  Oliver. 

"I  am  very  hungry  and  tired,"  replied  Oliver;  the  tears 
standing  in  his  eyes  as  he  spoke.  "  I  have  walked  a  long  way. 
I  have  been  walking  these  seven  days." 

"  Going  to  London  ? "  inquired  the  strange  boy. 

"Yes." 

"  Got  any  lodgings  ?  " 

"No." 

"Money?" 

"No." 

The  strange  boy  whistled ;  and  put  his  arms  into  his 
pockets. 

"  Do  you  live  in  London  ?  "  inquired  Oliver. 

"  Yes,  I  do  when  I  'm  at  home,"  replied  the  boy.  "  I 
suppose  you  want  some  place  to  sleep  in  to-night,  don't  you  ? " 

Upon  Oliver  answering  in  the  affirmative,  the  strange  boy, 
whose  name  was  Jack  Dawkins,  said,  "  I  've  got  to  be  in 
London  to-night ;  and  I  know  a  'spectable  old  genelman  as 
lives  tfcere,  wot  '11  give  you  lodgings  for  nothink,  and  never 
ask  foi  the  change  — that  is,  if  any  genelman  he  knows  inter- 
duces  you." 

This  offer  of  shelter  was  too  tempting  to  be  resisted,  and 
Oliver  trudged  off  with  his  new  friend.  Into  the  city  they 
passed,  and  through  the  worst  and  darkest  streets,  the  sight  of 
which  filled  Oliver  with  alarm.  At  length  they  reached  the 
door  of  a  house,  which  Jack  entered,  drawing  Oliver  after  him, 
into  its  dark  passage-way,  and  closing  the  door  after  them. 

Oliver,  groping  his  way  with  one  hand,  and  having  the 
other  firmly  grasped  by  his  companion,  ascended  with  much 
difficulty  the  dark  and  broken  stairs,  which  his  conductor 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

mounted  with  an  expedition  that  showed  he  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  them.  He  threw  open  the  door  of  a  back-room 
and  drew  Oliver  in  after  him. 

The  walls  and  ceiling  of  the  room  were  perfectly  black  with 
age  and  dirt.  There  was  a  clothes-horse,  over  which  a  great 
number  of  silk  handkerchiefs  were  hanging  ;  and  a  deal  table 
before  the  fire ;  upon  which  were  a  candle,  stuck  in  a  ginger- 
beer  bottle,  two  or  three  pewter  pots,  a  loaf  and  butter,  and  a 
plate.  In  a  frying  pan,  which  was  on  the  fire,  some  sausages 
were  cooking,  and  standing  over  them,  with  a  toasting-fork 
in  his  hand,  was  a  very  old  shrivelled  Jew,  whose  villanous- 
looking  and  repulsive  face  was  obscured  by  a  quantity  of 
matted  red  hair. 

Several  rough  beds,  made  of  old  sacks,  were  huddled  side  by 
side  on  the  floor.  Seated  round  the  table  were  four  or  five  boys, 
none  older  than  Jack  Dawkins,  familiarly  called  the  Dodger. 
The  boys  all  crowded  about  their  associate,  as  he  whispered  a 
few  words  to  the  Jew ;  and  then  they  turned  round  and  grinned 
at  Oliver.  So  did  the  Jew  himself,  toasting-fork  in  hand. 

"  This  is  him,  Fagin,"  said  Jack  Dawkins ;  "  my  friend 
Oliver  Twist" 

The  Jew,  making  a  low  bow  to  Oliver,  took  him  by  the 
hand,  and  hoped  he  should  have  the  honour  of  his  intimate 
acquaintance.  Upon  this  the  young  gentlemen  came  round 
him,  and  shook  his  hand  very  hard,  especially  the  one  in  which 
he  held  his  little  bundle. 

"We  are  very  glad  to  see  you,  Oliver,  very,"  said  the  Jew. 
"  Dodger  take  off  the  sausages ;  and  draw  a  tub  near  the  fire 
for  Oliver.  Ah,  you  're  a-staring  at  the  pocket-handkerchiefs  ! 
eh,  my  dear  ?  There  are  a  good  many  of  'em,  ain't  there  ? 
We  Ve  just  looked  'em  out  ready  for  the  wash ;  that 's  all, 
Oliver,  that 's  all.  Ha !  ha !  ha  ! " 

The  latter  part  of  this  speech  was  hailed  by  a  boisterous 

16 


OLIVER    TWIST 

shout  from  the  boys,  who,  Oliver  found,  were  all  pupils  of  the 
merry  old  gentleman.  In  the  midst  of  which  they  went  to 
supper. 

Oliver  ate  his  share,  and  the  Jew  then  mixed  him  a  glass 
of  hot  gin  and  water,  telling  him  he  must  drink  it  off  directly 
because  another  gentleman  wanted  the  tumbler.  Oliver  did  as 
he  was  desired.  Immediately  afterwards,  he  felt  himself  gently 
lifted  on  to  one  of  the  sacks ;  and  then  he  sunk  into  a  deep 
sleep. 

It  was  late  next  morning  when  Oliver  awoke,  from  a  sound, 
long  sleep.  There  was  no  other  person  in  the  room  but  the 
old  Jew,  who  was  boiling  some  coffee  in  a  saucepan  for  break- 
fast, and  whistling  softly  to  himself  as  he  stirred  it.  He  would 
stop  every  now  and  then  to  listen  when  there  was  the  least 
noise  below ;  and,  when  he  had  satisfied  himself,  he  would  go 
on,  whistling  and  stirring  again,  as  before. 

When  the  coffee  was  done,  the  Jew  drew  the  saucepan 
to  the  hob,  then  he  turned  and  looked  at  Oliver,  and  called 
him  by  name,  but  the  boy  did  not  answer,  and  was  to  all 
appearances  asleep.  After  satisfying  himself  upon  this  head, 
the  Jew  stepped  gently  to  the  door,  which  he  fastened.  He 
then  drew  forth,  as  it  seemed  to  Oliver,  from  some  trap  in 
the  floor  a  small  box,  which  he  placed  carefully  on  the  table. 
His  eyes  glistened  as  he  raised  the  lid,  and  looked  in.  Drag- 
ging an  old  chair  to  the  table,  he  sat  down,  and  took  from 
it  a  magnificent  gold  watch,  sparkling  with  jewels. 

At  least  half  a  dozen  more  were  severally  drawn  forth 
from  the  same  box,  besides  rings,  brooches,  bracelets,  and 
other  articles  of  jewellery,  of  such  magnificent  materials,  and 
costly  workmanship,  that  Oliver  had  no  idea,  even  of  their 
names. 

At  length  the   bright,  dark   eyes    of  the  Jew,  which  had 
been  staring  vacantly  before  him,  fell  on  Oliver's  face  ;  the 
a  17 


boy's  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  in  mute  curiosity ;  and,  although 
the  recognition  was  only  for  an  instant, —  it  was  enough  to 
show  the  man  that  he  had  been  observed.  He  closed  the 
lid  of  the  box  with  a  loud  crash ;  and,  laying  his  hand  on  a 
bread  knife  which  was  on  the  table,  started  furiously  up. 

"What 's  that?  "  said  the  Jew.  "  What  do  you  watch  me 
for?  Why  are  you  awake?  What  have  you  seen?  Speak 
out,  boy !  Quick  —  quick  !  for  your  life  !  " 

"  I  was  n't  able  to  sleep  any  longer,  sir,"  replied  Oliver 
meekly.  "  I  am  very  sorry  if  I  have  disturbed  you,  sir." 

"  You  were  not  awake  an  hour  ago  ?  "  said  the  Jew,  scowling 
fiercely. 

"  No  !    No  indeed  !  "    replied  Oliver. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  cried  the  Jew,  with  a  still  fiercer  look 
than  before,  and  a  threatening  attitude. 

"  Upon  my  word  I  was  not,  sir,"  replied  Oliver,  earnestly. 
"  I  was  not,  indeed,  sir." 

"  Tush,  tush,  my  dear!"  said  the  Jew,  abruptly  resuming 
his  old  manner.  "  Of  course  I  know  that,  my  dear,  I  only 
tried  to  frighten  you.  You're  a  brave  boy.  Ha  !  ha!  you're 
a  brave  boy,  Oliver  !  " 

The  Jew  rubbed  his  hands  with  a  chuckle,  but  glanced 
uneasily  at  the  box,  notwithstanding. 

"  Did  you  see  any  of  these  pretty  things,  my  dear  ? "  said 
the  Jew. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Oliver. 

"  Ah  !"  said  Fagin,  turning  rather  pale.  "They  —  they're 
mine,  Oliver;  my  little  property.  All  I  have  to  live  upon  in 
my  old  age.  The  folks  call  me  a  miser,  my  dear.  Only  a 
miser ;  that 's  all." 

Oliver  thought  the  old  gentleman  must  be  a  decided  miser 
to  live  in  such  a  dirty  place,  with  so  many  watches ;  but  think- 
ing that  perhaps  his  fondness  for  the  Dodger  and  the  other 

18 


OLIVER     TWIST 

boys,  cost  him  a  good  deal  of  money,  he  only  cast  a  deferential 
look  at  the  Jew,  and  asked  if  he  might  get  up.  Permission 
being  granted  him,  he  got  up,  walked  across  the  room,  and 
stooped  for  an  instant  to  raise  the  water-pitcher.  When  he 
turned  his  head,  the  box  was  gone. 

Presently  the  Dodger  returned  with  a  friend,  Charley  Bates, 
and  the  four  sat  down  to  a  breakfast  of  coffee,  and  some  hot 
rolls,  and  ham,  which  the  Dodger  had  brought  home  in  the 
crown  of  his  hat. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Jew,  "  I  hope  you  've  been  at  work 
this  morning,  my  dears?  " 

"  Hard,"  replied  the  Dodger. 

"  As  Nails,"  added  Charley  Bates. 

"  Good  boys,  good  boys ! "  said  the  Jew.  "  What  have 
you  got,  Dodger  ?  " 

"  A  couple  of  pocket-books,"  replied  the  young  gentleman. 

"  Lined  ?  "  inquired  the  Jew,  with  eagerness. 

"  Pretty  well,"  replied  the  Dodger,  producing  two  pocket- 
books. 

"And  what  have  you  got,  my  dear?"  said  Fagin  to 
Charley  Bates. 

"  Wipes,"  replied  Master  Bates  ;  at  the  same  time  produc- 
ing four  pocket-handkerchiefs. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Jew,  inspecting  them  closely  ;  "  they  're 
very  good  ones,  very.  You  haven't  marked  them  well,  though, 
Charley;  so  the  marks  shall  be  picked  out  with  a  needle,  and 
we  '11  teach  Oliver  how  to  do  it.  Shall  us,  Oliver,  eh? " 

"If  you  please,  sir,"  said  Oliver. 

"  You  'd  like  to  be  able  to  make  pocket-handkerchiefs 
as  easy  as  Charley  Bates,  would  n't  you,  my  dear  ?  "  said  the 
Jew. 

"Very  much  indeed,  if  you  '11  teach  me,  sir,"  replied 
Oliver. 

19 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

Master  Bates  saw  something  so  exquisitely  ludicrous  in 
this  reply,  that  he  burst  into  a  laugh;  which  laugh,  meeting 
the  coffee  he  was  drinking,  and  carrying  it  down  some  wrong 
channel,  very  nearly  terminated  in  his  suffocation. 

"  He  is  so  jolly  green  !  "  said  Charley,  when  he  recovered, 
as  an  apology  to  the  company  for  his  unpolite  behaviour. 

When  the  breakfast  was  cleared  away,  the  merry  old 
gentleman  and  the  two  boys  played  at  a  very  curious  and 
uncommon  game,  which  was  performed  in  this  way.  Fagin, 
placing  a  snuff-box  in  one  pocket  of  his  trousers,  a  note- 
case in  the  other,  and  a  watch  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  with 
a  guard-chain  round  his  neck,  and  sticking  a  mock  diamond 
pin  in  his  shirt,  buttoned  his  coat  tight  round  him,  and 
putting  his  spectacle-case  and  handkerchief  in  his  pockets, 
trotted  up  and  down  with  a  stick,  in  imitation  of  the  manner 
in  which  old  gentlemen  walk  about  the  streets.  Sometimes 
he  stopped  at  the  fire-place,  and  sometimes  at  the  door,  making 
believe  that  he  was  staring  with  all  his  might  into  shop 
windows.  At  such  times  he  would  look  constantly  round 
him,  for  fear  of  thieves,  and  would  keep  slapping  all  his 
pockets  in  turn,  to  see  that  he  had  n't  lost  anything,  in  such 
a  very  funny  and  natural  manner,  that  Oliver  laughed  till 
the  tears  ran  down  his  face. 

All  this  time,  the  two  boys  followed  him  closely  about ; 
getting  out  of  his  sight  so  nimbly,  that  it  was  impossible  to 
follow  their  motions.  At  last,  the  Dodger  trod  upon  his  toes 
accidentally,  while  Charley  Bates  stumbled  up  against  him 
behind ;  and  in  that  one  moment  they  took  from  him,  with 
the  most  extraordinary  rapidity,  snuff-box,  note-case,  watch- 
guard,  chain,  shirt-pin,  pocket-handkerchief — even  the  spec- 
tacle-case. If  the  old  gentleman  felt  a  hand  in  one  of  his 
pockets,  he  cried  out  where  it  was  ;  and  then  the  game  began 
all  over  again. 

20 


OLIVER     TWIST 

When  this  game  had  been  played  a  great  many  times, 
a  couple  of  young  women  came  in ;  one  of  whom  was  named 
Bet,  and  the  other  Nancy,  and  afterwards  Oliver  discovered 
that  they  also  were  pupils  of  Fagin's  as  well  as  the  boys. 

Later  the  young  people  went  out,  leaving  Oliver  alone  with 
the  Jew,  who  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  Is  my  handkerchief  hanging  out  of  my  pocket,  my 
dear  ? "  said  the  Jew,  stopping  short,  in  front  of  Oliver. 

"  Yes  sir,"  said  Oliver. 

"  See  if  you  can  take  it  out,  without  my  feeling  it :  as  you 
saw  them  do  when  we  were  at  play." 

Oliver  held  up  the  bottom  of  the  pocket  with  one  hand, 
as  he  had  seen  the  Dodger  hold  it,  and  drew  the  handkerchief 
lightly  out  of  it  with  the  other. 

"  Is  it  gone  ?  "  cried  the  Jew. 

"  Here  it  is,  sir,"  said  Oliver,  showing  it  in  his  hand. 

"  You  're  a  clever  boy,  my  dear,"  said  the  playful  old 
gentleman,  patting  Oliver  on  the  head  approvingly.  "  I 
never  saw  a  sharper  lad.  Here's  a  shilling  for  you.  If 
you  go  on  in  this  way,  you  '11  be  the  greatest  man  of  the 
time.  And  now  come  here,  and  I  '11  show  you  how  to  take 
the  marks  out  of  the  handkerchiefs." 

Oliver  wondered  what  picking  the  old  gentleman's  pocket 
in  play,  had  to  do  with  his  chances  of  being  a  great  man. 
But,  thinking  that  the  Jew,  being  so  much  his  senior,  must 
know  best,  he  followed  him  quietly  to  the  table,  and  was 
soon  deeply  involved  in  his  new  study. 

For  many  days  Oliver  remained  in  the  Jew's  room,  picking 
marks  out  of  the  pocket-handkerchiefs.  But  at  length,  he 
began  to  languish,  and  entreated  Fagin  to  allow  him  to  go 
out  to  work  with  his  two  companions.  So,  one  morning, 
he  obtained  permission  to  go  out,  under  the  guardianship  of 
Charley  Bates  and  the  Dodger. 

21 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

The  three  boys  sallied  out;  the  Dodger  with  his  coat- 
sleeves  tucked  up,  and  his  hat  cocked  as  usual;  Master  Bates 
sauntering  along  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  ;  and  Oliver 
between  them,  wondering  where  they  were  going,  and  what 
branch  of  manufacture  he  would  be  instructed  in,  first. 

They  were  just  emerging  from  a  narrow  court,  when  the 
Dodger  made  a  sudden  stop ;  and,  laying  his  finger  on  his  lip, 
drew  his  companions  back  again  with  the  greatest  caution. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  demanded  Oliver. 

"  Hush ! "  replied  the  Dodger.  "  Do  you  see  that  old 
cove  at  the  book-stall  ?  " 

"  The  old  gentleman  over  the  way  ?  "  said  Oliver.  "  Yes, 
I  see  him." 

"  He  '11  do,"  said  the  Dodger. 

"  A  prime  plant,"  observed  Master  Charley  Bates. 

Oliver  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  with  the  greatest  sur- 
prise ;  but  could  not  ask  any  questions,  for  the  two  boys  walked 
stealthily  across  the  road,  and  slunk  close  behind  the  old 
gentleman.  Oliver  walked  a  few  paces  behind  them,  looking 
on  in  silent  amazement. 

The  old  gentleman  had  taken  up  a  book  from  the  stall ; 
and  there  he  stood:  reading  away,  perfectly  absorbed,  and 
saw  not  the  book-stall,  nor  the  street,  nor  the  boys,  nor 
anything  but  the  book  itself.  What  was  Oliver's  horror  and 
alarm  to  see  the  Dodger  plunge  his  hand  into  the  old  gentle- 
man's pocket,  and  draw  from  thence  a  handkerchief!  To  see 
him  hand  the  same  to  Charley  Bates ;  and  finally  to  behold 
them,  both,  running  away  round  the  corner  at  full  speed ! 

In  an  instant  the  whole  mystery  of  the  handkerchiefs,  and 
the  watches,  and  the  jewels,  and  the  Jew,  rushed  upon  the 
boy's  mind.  He  stood,  for  a  moment,  with  the  blood  tingling 
through  all  his  veins  from  terror;  then,  confused  and  fright- 
ened, he  took  to  his  heels. 

22 


OLIVER     TWIST 

In  the  very  instant  when  Oliver  began  to  run,  the  old 
gentleman,  putting  his  hand  to  his  pocket,  and  missing  his 
handkerchief,  turned  sharp  round.  Seeing  the  boy  scudding 
away  at  such  a  rapid  pace,  he  very  naturally  concluded  him 
to  be  the  depredator,  and,  shouting  "Stop  thief!"  with  all 
his  might,  made  off  after  him,  book  in  hand.  The  Dodger 
and  Master  Bates,  who  had  merely  retired  into  the  first  door- 
way round  the  corner,  no  sooner  heard  the  cry,  and  saw  Oliver 
running,  than  they  issued  forth  with  great  promptitude;  and, 
shouting,  "Stop  thief!  Stop  thief!"  too,  joined  in  the  pursuit 
like  good  citizens. 

"  Stop  thief!  "  The  cry  is  taken  up  by  a  hundred  voices  v 
the  tradesman,  the  carman,  the  butcher,  the  baker,  the  milk- 
man, the  school-boy,  follow  in  hot  pursuit.  Away  they  run, 
pell-mell,  helter-skelter,  slap-dash :  tearing,  yelling  :  screaming, 
knocking  down  the  passengers  as  they  turn  the  corners, 
splashing  through  the  mud,  and  rattling  along  the  pavements, 
following  after  the  wretched,  breathless,  panting  child,  gain- 
ing upon  him  every  instant.  Stopped  at  last !  A  clever 
blow  !  He  is  down  upon  the  pavement,  covered  with  mud 
and  dust,  looking  wildly  round  upon  the  heap  of  faces  that 
surround  him. 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "I  am  afraid   that  is  the 
boy.     Poor  fellow  !  he  has   hurt  himself!  " 

Just  then  a  police  officer  appeared  and  dragged  the  half 
fainting  boy  off,  the  old  gentleman  walking  beside  him, 
Oliver  protesting  his  innocence  as  they  went.  At  the  police 
station  Oliver  was  searched  in  vain,  and  then  locked  in  a 
cell  for  a  time,  while  the  old  gentleman  sat  outside  waiting, 
and  read  his  book.  Presently  the  boy  was  brought  out 
before  the  Magistrate ;  and  the  policeman  and  the  old  gentle- 
man preferred  their  charges  against  him.  While  the  case 
was  proceeding,  Oliver  fell  to  the  floor  in  a  fainting  fit,  and 

23 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

as  he  lay  there  the  Magistrate  uttered  his  penance,  "  He 
stands  committed  for  three  months  of  hard  labour.  Clear 
the  office ! "  A  couple  of  men  were  about  to  carry  the 
insensible  boy  to  his  cell,  when  an  elderly  man  rushed  nastily 
into  the  office.  "  Stop,  stop  !  "  he  said.  "  Don't  take  him 
away  !  I  saw  it  all.  I  keep  the  book-stall.  I  saw  three 
boys  loitering  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way  when  this 
gentleman  was  reading.  The  robbery  was  committed  by 
another  boy.  I  saw  it  done;  and  I  saw  that  this  boy  was 
perfectly  amazed  and  stupified  by  it  !  " 

Having  by  this  time  recovered  a  little  breath,  the  book- 
stall keeper  proceeded  to  relate  in  a  more  coherent  manner 
the  exact  circumstances  of  the  robbery,  in  consequence  of 
which  explanation  Oliver  Twist  was  discharged,  and  carried 
off,  still  white  and  faint,  in  a  coach,  by  the  kind-hearted  old 
gentleman  whose  name  was  Brownlow,  who  seemed  to  feel 
himself  responsible  for  the  boy's  condition,  and  resolved  to 
have  him  cared  for  in  his  own  home. 

After  Charley  Bates  and  the  Dodger  had  seen  Oliver 
dragged  away  by  the  police  officer,  they  scoured  off  with 
great  rapidity.  Coming  to  a  halt  Master  Bates  burst  into 
an  uncontrollable  fit  of  laughter. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  inquired  the  Dodger. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  said  Charley,  "  I  can't  help  it !  To 
see  him  splitting  away  at  that  pace,  and  cutting  round  the 
corners,  and  knocking  up  against  the  posts,  and  starting  on 
again  as  if  he  was  made  of  iron,  and  me  with  the  wipe  in 
my  pocket,  singing  out  arter  him  —  oh,  my  eye  ! "  The 
vivid  imagination  of  Master  Bates  presented  the  scene  before 
him  in  too  strong  colours,  and  he  rolled  upon  a  door-step 
and  laughed  louder  than  before. 

"  What  '11  Fagin  say  ? "  inquired  the  Dodger,  and  the 
question  sobered  Master  Bates  at  once,  as  both  boys  stood 

24 


OLIVER     TWIST 

in  great  dread  of  the  Jew.  And  their  worst  fears  were 
realised.  Fagin  was  livid  with  rage  at  the  loss  of  his  promis- 
ing pupil,  as  well  as  fearful  of  the  disclosures  he  might 
make.  After  long  consultation  on  the  subject,  it  was 
agreed  by  the  band  that  Nancy  was  to  go  to  the  police 
station  in  a  disguised  dress,  to  find  out  what  had  been  done 
with  Oliver,  for  whom  she  was  to  search  as  her  "  dear  little 
lost  brother." 

Meanwhile  Oliver  lay  for  many  days  burning  with  fever 
and  unconscious  of  his  surroundings,  in  the  quietly  comfortable 
home  of  Mr.  Brownlow  at  Pentonville.  At  length,  weak,  and 
thin,  and  pallid,  he  awoke  from  what  seemed  a  dream,  and 
found  himself  being  nursed  by  Mrs.  Bedwin,  Mr.  Brownlow's 
motherly  old  house-keeper,  and  visited  constantly  by  the 
doctor.  Gradually  he  grew  stronger,  and  soon  could  sit  up 
a  little.  Those  were  happy,  peaceful  days  of  his  recovery,  the 
only  happy  ones  he  had  ever  known.  Everybody  was  so  kind 
and  gentle  that  it  seemed  like  Heaven  itself,  as  he  sat  by  the 
fireside  in  the  house-keeper's  room.  On  the  wall  hung  a  por- 
trait of  a  beautiful,  mild,  lady  with  sorrowful  eyes,  of  which 
Oliver  was  the  living  copy.  Every  feature  was  the  same  —  to 
Mr.  Brownlow's  intense  astonishment,  as  he  gazed  from  it  to 
Oliver. 

Later,  Oliver  heard  the  history  of  the  portrait  and  his  own 
connection  with  it. 

When  he  was  strong  enough  to  put  his  clothes  on,  Mr. 
Brownlow  caused  a  complete  new  suit,  and  a  new  cap,  and  a 
new  pair  of  shoes,  to  be  provided  for  him.  Oliver  gave  his 
old  clothes  to  one  of  the  servants  who  had  been  kind  to  him, 
and  she  sold  them  to  a  Jew  who  came  to  the  house. 

One  evening  Mr.  Brownlow  sent  up  word  to  have  Oliver 
come  down  into  his  study  and  see  him  for  a  little  while,  — 
so  Mrs.  Bedwin  helped  him  to  prepare  himself,  and  although 

25 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

there  was  not  even  time  to  crimp  the  little  frill  that  bordered 
his  shirt-collar,  he  looked  so  delicate  and  handsome,  that 
she  surveyed  him  with  great  complacency. 

Mr.  Brownlow  was  reading,  but  when  he  saw  Oliver,  he 
pushed  the  book  away,  and  told  him  to  come  near,  and  sit 
down,  which  Oliver  did.  Then  the  old  gentleman  began  to 
talk  kindly  of  what  Oliver's  future  was  to  be.  Instantly 
the  bov  became  pallid  with  fright,  and  implored  Mr.  Brown- 
low  to  let  him  stay  with  him,  as  a  servant,  as  anything, 
only  not  to  send  him  out  into  the  streets  again,  and  the  old 
gentleman,  touched  by  the  appeal,  assured  the  boy  that  unless 
he  should  deceive  him,  he  would  be  his  faithful  friend. 
He  then  asked  Oliver  to  relate  the  whole  story  of  his  life, 
which  he  was  beginning  to  do  when  an  old  friend  of  Mr. 
Brownlow' s —  a  Mr.  Grimwig,  —  entered. 

He  was  an  eccentric  old  man,  and  was  loud  in  his  excla- 
mations of  distrust  in  this  boy  whom  Mr.  Brownlow  was 
harbouring. 

"  I*  11  answer  for  that  boy's  truth  with  my  life ! "  said 
Mr.  Brownlow,  knocking  the  table. 

"  And  I  for  his  falsehood  with  my  head !  "  rejoined  Mr. 
Grimwig,  knocking  the  table  also. 

"  We  shall  see !  "  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  checking  his  rising 
anger. 

"We  will!"  said  Mr.  Grimwig,  with  a  provoking  smile; 
"we  will." 

Just  then  Mrs.  Bedwin  brought  in  some  books  which  had 
been  bought  of  the  identical  book  stall-keeper  who  has  already 
figured  in  this  history.  Mr.  Brownlow  was  greatly  disturbed 
that  the  boy  who  brought  them  had  not  waited,  as  there  were 
some  other  books  to  be  returned. 

"Send  Oliver  with  them,"  suggested  Mr.  Grimwig,  "he 
will  be  sure  to  deliver  them  safely,  you  know  ! " 

26 


OLIVER     TWIST 

"  Yes ;  do  let  me  take  them,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said  Oliver 
"  I  '11  run  all  the  way,  sir." 

Mr.  Brownlow  was  about  to  refuse  to  have  Oliver  go 
out,  when  Mr.  Grimwig's  malicious  cough  made  him  change 
his  mind,  and  let -the  boy  go. 

"  You  are  to  say,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow,  "  that  you  have 
brought  those  books  back ;  and  that  you  have  come  to  pay 
the  four  pound  ten  I  owe  him.  This  is  a  five-pound  note, 
so  you  will  have  to  bring  me  back  ten  shilling  change." 

"  I  won't  be  ten  minutes,  sir,"  replied  Oliver,  eagerly,  as 
with  a  respectful  bow  he  left  the  room.  Mrs.  Bedwin  watched 
him  out  of  sight  exclaiming,  "Bless  his  sweet  face!"  —  while 
Oliver  looked  gaily  round,  and  nodded  before  he  turned  the 
corner. 

Then  Mr.  Brownlow  drew  out  his  watch  and  waited,  while 
Mr.  Grimwig  asserted  that  the  boy  would  never  be  back. 
"  He  has  a  new  suit  of  clothes  on  his  back;  a  set  of  valu- 
able books  under  his  arm  ;  and  a  five-pound  note  in  his  pocket. 
He'll  join  his  old  friends  the  thieves,  and  laugh  at  you. 
If  ever  that  boy  returns  to  this  house,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Grimwig, 
"  I  '11  eat  my  head  !  " 

It  grew  so  dark  that  the  figures  on  the  dial-plate  were 
scarcely  discernible.  The  gas  lamps  were  lighted;  Mrs. 
Bedwin  was  waiting  anxiously  at  the  open  door ;  the  servant 
had  run  up  the  street  twenty  times  to  see  if  there  were 
any  traces  of  Oliver;  and  still  the  two  old  gentlemen  sat, 
perseveringly,  in  the  dark  parlour,  with  the  watch  between 
them,  waiting  —  but  Oliver  did  not  come. 

He  meanwhile,  had  walked  along,  on  his  way  to  the 
bookstall,  thinking  how  happy  and  contented  he  ought  to 
feel,  when  he  was  startled  by  a  young  woman  screaming  out 
very  loud,  "  Oh,  my  dear  brother  !  "  —  and  then  he  was 
stopped  by  having  a  pair  of  arms  thrown  tight  round  his  neck. 

27 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

"  Don't ! "  cried  Oliver,  struggling.  "  Let  go  of  me. 
Who  is  it  ?  What  are  you  stopping  me  for  ?  " 

"  Oh  my  gracious  ! "  said  the  young  woman,  "  I  've 
found  him !  Oh  you  naughty  boy,  to  make  me  suffer  sich 
distress  on  your  account !  Come  home,  dear,  come  !  "  With 
these  and  more  incoherent  exclamations,  the  young  woman 
burst  out  crying,  and  told  the  onlookers  that  Oliver  was 
her  brother,  who  had  run  away  from  his  respectable  parents 
a  month  ago,  joined  a  gang  of  thieves  and  almost  broke  his 
mother's  heart,  —  to  which  Oliver,  greatly  alarmed,  replied 
that  he  was  an  orphan,  had  no  sister,  and  lived  at  Pentonville. 
Then,  catching  sight  of  the  woman's  face  for  the  first  time, 
he  cried,  — "  Why,  it 's  Nancy  !  " 

"  You  see  he  knows  me  !  "  cried  Nancy.  "  Make  him  come 
home,  there 's  good  people,  or  he  '11  kill  his  dear  mother 
and  father,  and  break  my  heart ! "  With  this  a  man  who  was 
Nancy's  accomplice,  Bill  Sikes  by  name,  came  to  the  rescue, 
tore  the  volumes  from  Oliver's  grasp,  and  struck  him  on  the 
head.  Weak  still,  and  stupified  by  the  suddenness  of  the 
attack,  overpowered  and  helpless,  what  could  one  poor  child 
do  ?  Darkness  had  set  in ;  it  was  a  low  neighbourhood ; 
no  help  was  near —  resistance  was  useless.  In  another  moment 
he  was  dragged  into  a  labyrinth  of  dark  narrow  courts :  and 
was  forced  along  them,  at  a  pace  which  rendered  the  few  cries 
he  dared  to  give  utterance  to,  unintelligible. 

At  length  they  turned  into  a  very  filthy  street,  and  stopped 
at  an  apparently  untenanted  house  into  which  Bill  Sikes  and 
Nancy  led  Oliver,  and  there,  were  his  old  friends,  Charley 
Bates,  the  Dodger,  and  Fagin. 

They  greeted  Oliver  with  cheers,  and  at  once  rifled  his 
pockets  of  the  five-pound  note,  and  relieved  him  of  the 
books,  —  although  Oliver  pleaded  that  the  books  and  money 
be  sent  back  to  Mr.  Brownlow.  When  he  found  that  all 

28 


OLIVER     TWIST 

pleading  and  resistance  were  useless,  he  jumped  suddenly  to 
his  feet  and  tore  wildly  from  the  room,  uttering  shrieks  for 
help  which  made  the  bare  old  house  echo  to  the  roof,  and 
then  attempted  to  dart  through  the  door,  opened  for  a 
moment,  but  he  was  instantly  caught,  while  Sikes'  dog  would 
have  sprung  upon  him,  except  for  Nancy's  intervention. 
She  was  struck  with  Oliver's  pallor  and  great  grief  and  tried 
to  shield  him  from  violence.  But  it  was  of  little  avail.  He 
was  beaten  by  the  Jew,  and  then  led  off  by  Master  Bates 
into  an  adjacent  kitchen  to  go  to  bed.  His  new  clothes  were 
taken  from  him  and  he  was  given  the  identical  old  suit 
which  he  had  so  congratulated  himself  upon  leaving  off  at 
Mr.  Brownlow's,  and  the  accidental  display  of  which  to  Fagin, 
by  the  Jew  who  purchased  them,  had  been  the  first  ckie  to 
Oliver's  whereabouts. 

For  a  week  or  so  the  boy  was  kept  locked  up,  but  after 
that  the  Jew  left  him  at  liberty  to  wander  about  the  house ; 
which  was  a  weird,  ghostlike  place,  with  the  mouldering 
shutters  fast  closed,  and  no  evidence  from  outside  that 
it  sheltered  human  creatures.  Oliver  was  constantly  with 
Charley  Bates  and  the  Dodger,  who  played  the  old  game 
with  the  Jew  every  day.  At  times  Fagin  entertained  the 
boys  with  stories  of  robberies  he  had  committed  in  his 
younger  days,  which  made  Oliver  laugh  heartily,  and  show 
that  he  was  amused  in  spite  of  his  better  feelings.  In  short, 
the  wily  old  Jew  had  the  boy  in  his  toils,  and  hoped  gradually 
to  instil  into  his  soul  the  poison  which  would  blacken  it  and 
change  its  hue  forever. 

Meanwhile  Fagin,  Bill  Sikes,  and  Nancy  were  arranging 
a  plot  in  which  poor  Oliver  was  to  play  a  notable  part. 
One  morning  he  found  to  his  surprise,  a  pair  of  stout  new 
shoes  by  his  bedside,  and  at  breakfast  Fagin  told  him  that 
he  was  to  be  taken  to  the  residence  of  Bill  Sikes  that  night, 

29 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

but  no  reason  for  this  was  given.  Fagin  then  left  him  and 
presently  Nancy  came  in,  looking  pale  and  ill.  She  came 
from  Sikes  to  take  Oliver  to  him.  Her  countenance  was 
agitated  and  she  trembled. 

"  I  have  saved  you  from  being  ill-used  once,  and  I  will 
again ;  and  I  do  now,"  she  said,  "  for  those  who  would 
have  fetched  you  if  I  had  not,  would  have  been  far  more 
rough  than  me.  Remember  this,  and  don't  let  me  suffer 
more  for  you  just  now.  If  I  could  help  you,  I  would ; 
but  I  have  not  the  power.  I  have  promised  for  your  being 
quiet ;  if  you  are  not,  you  will  harm  youself  and  perhaps  be 
my  death.  Hush  !  Give  me  your  hand  !  Make  haste  ! " 

Blowing  out  the  light,  she  drew  Oliver  hastily  after  her, 
out,  and  into  a  hackney-cabriolet.  The  driver  wanted  no 
directions,  but  lashed  his  horse  into  full  speed,  and  pre- 
sently they  were  in  a  strange  house.  There,  with  Nancy 
and  Sikes,  Oliver  remained  until  an  early  hour  the  next 
morning,  when  the  three  set  out,  whither  or  for  what  Oliver 
did  not  know,  but  before  they  started  Sikes  drew  out  a  pistol, 
and  holding  it  close  to  Oliver's  temple  said,  "  If  you  speak 
a  word  while  you  're  out  of  doors,  with  me,  except  when 
I  speak  to  you,  that  loading  will  be  in  your  head  without 
notice ! "  And  Oliver  did  not  doubt  the  statement. 

In  the  gray  dawn  of  a  cheerless  morning  the  trio  started 
off,  and  by  continual  tramping,  and  an  occasional  lift  from 
a  carter  reached  a  public  house  where  they  lingered  for 
some  hours,  and  then  went  on  again  until  the  next  night. 
They  turned  into  no  house  at  Shepperton,  as  the  weary 
boy  had  expected ;  but  still  kept  walking  on,  in  mud  and 
darkness,  until  they  came  in  sight  of  the  lights  of  a  town. 
Then  they  stopped  for  a  time  at  a  solitary,  dilapidated 
house,  where  they  were  met  by  other  men.  The  party 
then  crossed  a  bridge  and  were  soon  in  the  little  town  of 

30 


OLIVER     TWIST 

Chertsey.  There  was  nobody  abroad.  They  had  cleared  the 
town  as  the  church-bell  struck  two.  After  walking  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile,  they  stopped  before  a  detached  house 
surrounded  by  a  wall :  to  the  top  of  which  one  of  the  men, 
Toby  Crackit,  climbed  in  a  twinkling. 

"  The  boy  next ! "  said  Toby.  "  Hoist  him  up;  I  '11  catch 
hold  of  him." 

Before  Oliver  had  time  to  look  round,  Sikes  had  caught 
him  under  the  arms ;  and  he  and  Toby  were  lying  on  the 
grass,  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall.  Sikes  followed,  and  they 
stole  towards  the  house.  Now,  for  the  first  time  Oliver  real- 
ised that  robbery,  if  not  murder,  was  the  object  of  the  expe- 
dition. In  vain  he  pleaded  that  they  let  him  go,  —  he  was 
answered  only  by  oaths,  while  the  robbers  were  busy  open- 
ing a  little  window  not  far  from  the  ground  at  the  back 
of  the  house,  which  was  just  large  enough  to  admit  Oliver. 
Toby  planted  himself  firmly  with  his  head  against  the  wall 
beneath  the  window,  then  Sikes,  mounting  upon  him,  put 
Oliver  through  the  window  with  his  feet  first,  and  without 
leaving  hold  of  his  collar,  planted  him  safely  on  the  floor 
inside. 

"  Take  this  lantern,"  whispered  Sikes,  looking  into  the 
room,  "  You  see  the  stairs  afore  you  ;  go  up  softly  and  un- 
fasten the  street  door." 

Oliver,  more  dead  than  alive  gasped  out,  "  Yes."  Sikes 
then  advised  him  to  take  notice  that  he  was  within  shot  all  the 
way ;  and  that  if  he  faltered,  he  would  fall  dead  that  instant. 

"  It 's  done  in  a  minute,"  said  Sikes.  "  Directly  I  leave 
go  of  you,  do  your  work.  Hark  !  " 

"  What 's  that? "  whispered  the  other  man. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Sikes,  —  "  Now!  " 

In  the  short  time  he  had  to  collect  his  senses,  Oliver 
had  resolved  that,  whether  he  died  in  the  attempt  or  not, 

31 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

he  would  make  one  effort  to  dart  up  stairs  and  to  alarm 
the  family.  Filled  with  this  idea,  he  advanced  at  once,  but 
stealthily. 

"  Come  back ! "  suddenly  cried  Sikes  aloud.  "Sack ! 
Back!" 

Scared  by  the  sudden  breaking  of  the  stillness  and  by 
a  loud  cry  which  followed  it,  Oliver  let  his  lantern  fall  and 
knew  not  whether  to  advance  or  fly.  The  cry  was  repeated  — 
a  light  appeared  —  a  vision  of  two  terrified  half-dressed  men 
at  the  top  of  the  stairs  swam  before  his  eyes  —  a  flash  — 
a  smoke  —  a  crash  somewhere,  —  and  he  staggered  back. 

Sikes  had  disappeared  for  an  instant;  but  he  was  up 
again,  and  had  Oliver  by  the  collar  before  the  smoke  had 
cleared  away.  He  fired  his  pistol  after  the  men,  and  dragged 
the  boy  up. 

"  Clasp  your  arm  tighter,"  said  Sikes,  as  he  drew  him 
through  the  window.  "  Give  me  a  shawl  here.  They  Ve 
hit  him.  Quick!  How  the  boy  bleeds!" 

Then  came  the  loud  ringing  of  a  bell,  mingled  with  the 
noise  of  fire-arms,  the  shouts  of  men,  and  the  sensation  of 
being  carried  over  uneven  ground  at  a  rapid  pace.  Then 
the  noises  grew  confused  in  the  distance ;  and  the  boy  saw 
or  heard  no  more.  Bill  Sikes  had  him  on  his  back  scudding 
like  the  wind.  Oliver's  head  hung  down,  and  he  was  deadly 
cold.  The  pursuers  were  close  upon  Sikes'  heels.  He 
dropped  the  boy  in  a  ditch  and  fled. 

Hours  afterwards  Oliver  came  to  himself,  and  found  his 
left  arm  rudely  bandaged  hung  useless  at  his  side.  He  was 
so  weak  that  he  could  scarcely  move.  Trembling  from  cold 
and  exhaustion  he  made  an  effort  to  stand  upright,  but  fell 
back,  groaning  with  pain.  Then  a  creeping  stupor  came 
over  him,  warning  him  that  if  he  lay  there  he  must  surely 
die.  So  he  got  upon  his  feet,  and  stumbling  on,  dizzy  and 

32 


OLIVER    TWIST 

half  unconscious,  drew  near  to  the  very  house  which  caused 
him  to  shudder  with  horror  at  the  memory  of  last  night's 
dreadful  scene. 

Within,  in  the  kitchen  all  the  servants  were  gathered  round 
the  fire  discussing  the  attempted  burglary.  While  Mr.  Giles, 
the  butler,  was  giving  his  version  of  the  affair,  there  came 
a  timid  knock.  They  opened  the  door  cautiously  and  beheld 
poor  little  Oliver  Twist,  speechless  and  exhausted,  who 
raised  his  heavy  eyes  and  mutely  solicited  their  compassion. 
Instantly  there  was  an  outcry,  and  Oliver  was  seized  by  one 
leg  and  one  arm,  lugged  into  the  hall,  and  laid  on  the  floor. 
"  Here  he  is ! "  bawled  Giles  up  the  staircase ;  "  here 's 
one  of  the  thieves,  ma'am  !  Here  's  a  thief,  miss  !  Wounded, 
miss.  I  shot  him,  miss ;  and  Brittles  held  the  light ! " 
There  was  great  confusion  then,  all  the  servants  talking  at 
once,  but  the  sound  of  a  sweet  voice  from  above  quelled 
the  commotion.  On  learning  that  a  wounded  thief  was  lying 
in  the  house,  the  voice  directed  that  he  be  instantly  carried 
up-stairs  to  the  room  of  Mr.  Giles,  and  a  doctor  be  sum- 
moned ;  and  so  for  the  second  time  in  his  short,  tragic 
existence,  Oliver  fell  into  kind  hands  at  a  moment  when  all 
hope  had  left  his  breast.  He  was  now  in  the  home  of  Mrs. 
Maylie,  a  finely  preserved,  bright-eyed,  elderly  lady,  and  her 
fair  young  adopted  niece,  Rose. 

The  attempted  burglary  had  greatly  shocked  them  both, 
and  the  fact  that  one  of  the  robbers  was  in  the  house  added 
to  their  nervousness.  So  when  Dr.  Losberne  came,  and 
begged  them  to  accompany  him  to  the  patient's  room,  they 
dreaded  to  comply  with  the  request,  but  finally  yielded  to 
his  demand.  What  was  their  astonishment  when  the  bed- 
curtains  were  drawn  aside,  instead  of  a  black-visaged  ruffian, 
to  see  a  mere  child,  worn  with  pain,  and  sunk  into  a  deep 
sleep.  His  wounded  arm  bound  and  splintered  up,  was 
3  33 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

crossed  upon  his  breast.  His  head  reclined  upon  the  other 
arm,  which  was  half  hidden  by  his  long  hair,  as  it  streamed 
over  the  pillow.  The  boy  smiled  in  his  sleep  as  at  a  pleasant 
dream,  when  Rose  bent  tenderly  over  him,  while  the  older  lady 
and  the  Doctor  discussed  the  probability  of  the  child's  having 
been  the  tool  of  robbers.  Fearing  that  the  doctor  might 
influence  her  aunt  to  send  the  boy  away,  Rose  pleaded 
that  he  be  kept  and  cared  for;  it  was  finally  decided  that 
when  Oliver  awoke  he  should  be  examined  as  to  his  past 
life,  and  if  the  result  seemed  satisfactory,  he  should  remain. 
But  not  until  evening  was  he  able  to  be  questioned.  He 
then  told  them  all  his  simple  history.  It  was  a  solemn  thing 
to  hear  the  feeble  voice  of  the  sick  child  recounting  a  weary 
catalogue  of  evils  and  calamities  which  hard  men  had  brought 
upon  him,  and  his  hearers  were  profoundly  moved  by  the 
recital.  His  pillow  was  smoothed  by  gentle  hands  that  night 
and  he  slept  as  sleep  the  calm  and  happy. 

On  the  following  day,  officers  who  had  heard  of  the 
burglary,  and  that  a  thief  was  prisoner  in  the  Maylie  house, 
came  from  London  to  arrest  him,  but  Dr.  Losberne  and 
Mrs.  Maylie  shielded  him,  and  their  joint  bail  was  accepted 
for  the  boy's  appearance  in  court  if  it  should  ever  be 
required. 

With  the  Maylies  Oliver  remained,  and  thanks  to  their 
tender  care,  gradually  throve  and  prospered,  although  it  was 
long  weeks  before  he  was  quite  himself  again.  Many  times 
he  spoke  to  the  two  sweet  ladies  of  his  gratitude  to  them, 
saying  that  he  only  desired  to  serve  them  always.  To  this 
they  responded  that  he  should  go  with  them  to  the  country, 
and  there  could  serve  them  in  a  hundred  ways. 

Only  one  cloud  was  on  Oliver's  sky.  He  longed  to  go 
to  Mr.  Brownlow  and  tell  him  the  true  story  of  his  seem- 
ing ingratitude.  So  as  soon  as  he  was  sufficiently  recovered, 

34 


OLIVER    TWIST 

Dr.  Losberne  drove  him  out  to  the  place  where  he  said 
Mr.  Brownlow  resided.  They  hastened  to  the  house,  but  alas  ! 
it  was  empty.  There  was  a  bill  in  the  window,  "  To  Let " 
and  upon  inquiring,  they  found  that  Mr.  Brownlow,  Mr. 
Grimwig,  and  Mrs.  Bedwin  had  gone  to  the  West  Indies. 

The  disappointment  was  a  cruel  one,  for  all  through  his 
sickness  Oliver  had  anticipated  the  delight  of  seeing  his  first 
benefactor,  and  clearing  himself  of  guilt,  but  now  that  was 
impossible. 

In  a  fortnight  the  Maylies  went  to  the  country,  and 
Oliver,  whose  life  had  been  spent  in  squalid  crowds,  seemed 
to  enter  on  a  new  existence  there.  The  sky  and  the  balmy 
air,  the  woods  and  glistening  water,  the  rose  and  honeysuckle, 
were  each  a  daily  joy  to  him.  Every  morning  he  went  to 
a  white-haired  old  gentleman  who  taught  him  to  read  better 
and  to  write,  then  he  would  walk  and  talk  with  Rose  and 
Mrs.  Maylie,  and  so  three  happy  months  glided  away. 

In  the  summer  Rose  was  taken  down  with  a  terrible  fever, 
and  anxiety  hung  like  a  cloud  over  the  cottage  where  she 
was  so  dear,  but  at  length  the  danger  passed  and  the  loving 
hearts  grew  lighter  again. 

Meanwhile  a  man  named  Monks,  —  a  friend  of  Fagin's 
—  had  by  chance  seen  Oliver,  had  been  strangely  excited  and 
angered  at  sight  of  him,  and  after  carefully  learning  some 
details  of  the  boy's  history,  had  gone  to  the  beadle  at  the 
workhouse  where  Oliver  began  life,  and  by  dint  of  bribes, 
had  extorted  information  concerning  Oliver's  mother,  which 
only  one  person  knew.  Satisfied  with  what  he  learned,  Monks 
conferred  with  Fagin,  telling  some  facts  about  Oliver  which 
caused  Nancy,  who  happened  to  overhear  them,  to  become 
terror-stricken. 

As  soon  as  she  could,  she  stole  away  from  her  companions, 
out  towards  the  West  End  of  London,  to  a  hotel  where  the 

35 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

Maylies  were  then  boarding,  and  which  she  had  heard  Monks 
mention.  Nancy  was  such  a  ragged  object  that  she  found 
it  difficult  to  have  her  name  carried  up  to  Rose  Maylie,  but 
at  length  she  succeeded,  and  was  ushered  into  the  sweet 
young  lady's  presence,  where  she  quickly  related  what  she 
had  come  to  tell.  That  Monks  had  accidentally  seen  Oliver, 
and  found  out  where  he  was  living,  and  with  whom  ;  —  that 
a  bargain  had  been  struck  with  Fagin  that  he  should  have 
a  certain  sum  of  money  if  Oliver  were  brought  back,  and  a 
still  larger  amount  if  the  boy  could  be  made  a  thief.  Nancy 
then  went  on  to  tell  that  Monks  spoke  of  Oliver  as  his 
young  brother,  and  boasted  that  the  proofs  of  the  boy's 
identity  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  river  —  that  he,  Monks, 
had  money  which  by  right  should  have  been  shared  with 
Oliver,  and  that  his  one  desire  was  to  take  the  boy's  life. 

These  disclosures  made  Rose  Maylie  turn  pale,  and  ask 
many  questions,  from  which  she  discovered  that  Nancy's 
confession  was  actuated  by  a  real  liking  for  Oliver  and  a  fierce 
hatred  for  the  man  Monks.  Her  tale  finished,  and  refusing 
money,  or  help  of  any  kind,  Nancy  went  as  swiftly  as  she 
had  come,  and  when  she  left,  Rose  sank  into  a  chair  com- 
pletely overcome  by  what  she  had  heard. 

Of  course  the  matter  was  too  serious  to  pass  over,  and 
the  next  day,  as  Rose  was  trying  to  decide  upon  a  course 
of  action,  Oliver  settled  it  for  her,  by  rushing  in  with  breath- 
less haste,  and  exclaiming,  "  I  have  seen  the  gentleman  —  the 
gentleman  who  was  so  good  to  me  —  Mr.  Brownlow  !  " 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  Rose. 

"  Going  into  a  house,"  replied  Oliver.  "  And  Giles  asked, 
for  me,  whether  he  lived  there,  and  they  said  he  did.  Look 
here,"  producing  a  scrap  of  paper,  "here  it  is;  here's  where 
he  lives  —  I  'm  going  there  directly !  OH,  DEAR  ME  !  DEAR 
ME  !  what  shall  I  do  when  I  come  to  hear  him  speak  again  !  " 

36 


OLIVER     TWIST 

With  her  attention  not  a  little  distracted  by  these  excla- 
mations of  joy,  an  idea  came  to  Rose,  and  she  determined  upon 
turning  this  discovery  to  account. 

"  Quick ! "  she  said,  "  tell  them  to  fetch  a  hackney-coach, 
and  be  ready  to  go  with  me.  I  will  take  you  to  see  Mr. 
Brownlow  directly." 

Oliver  needed  no  urging  and  they  were  soon  on  their 
way  to  Craven  Street.  When  they  arrived,  Rose  left  Oliver 
in  the  coach,  and  sending  up  her  card,  requested  to  see 
Mr.  Brownlow  on  business.  She  was  shown  up  stairs,  and 
presented  to  Mr.  Brownlow,  an  elderly  gentleman  of  benevo- 
lent appearance,  in  a  bottle-green  coat,  and  with  him  was  his 
friend,  Mr.  Grimwig.  Rose  began  at  once  upon  her  errand,  to 
the  great  amazement  of  the  two  old  gentlemen.  She  related  in 
a  few  natural  words  all  that  had  befallen  Oliver  since  he  left 
Mr.  Brownlow's  house,  concluding  with  the  assurance  that 
his  only  sorrow  for  many  months  had  been  the  not  being  able 
to  meet  with  his  former  benefactor  and  friend. 

"  Thank  God ! "  said  Mr.  Brownlow.  "  This  is  great 
happiness  to  me ;  great  happiness !  But  why  not  have 
brought  him  ?  " 

"  He  is  waiting  in  a  coach  at  the  door,"  replied  Rose. 

"  At  this  door  ! "  cried  Mr.  Brownlow.  With  which  he 
hurried  down  the  stairs,  without  another  word,  and  came  back 
with  Oliver.  Then  Mrs.  Bedwin  was  sent  for.  "  God  be 
good  to  me  !  "  she  cried,  embracing  him  ;  "it  is  my  innocent 
boy  !  He  would  come  back  —  I  knew  he  would  !  How  well 
he  looks,  and  how  like  a  gentleman's  son  he  is  dressed  again ! 
Where  have  you  been,  this  long,  long  while  ?  " 

Running  on  thus,  —  now  holding  Oliver  from  her, 
now  clasping  him  to  her  and  passing  her  fingers  through 
his  hair,  the  good  soul  laughed  and  wept  upon  his  neck  by 
turns. 

37 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

Leaving  Oliver  with  her,  Mr.  Brownlow  led  Rose  into 
another  room,  by  her  request,  and  she  narrated  her  interview 
with  Nancy,  which  occasioned  Mr.  Brownlow  no  small  amount 
of  perplexity  and  surprise.  After  a  long  consultation  they 
decided  to  take  Mrs.  Maylie  and  Dr.  Losberne  into  their 
confidence,  also  Mr.  Grimwig,  thus  forming  a  committee  for 
the  purpose  of  guarding  the  young  lad  from  further  entangle- 
ment in  the  plots  of  villains. 

Through  Nancy,  with  whom  Rose  had  another  interview, 
the  man  Monks  was  tracked,  and  finally  captured  by  Mr. 
Brownlow,  who  to  his  sorrow,  found  that  the  villain  was 
the  erring  son  of  his  oldest  friend,  and  his  name  of  Monks 
only  an  assumed  one.  Facing  him  in  a  room  of  his  own 
house,  to  which  Monks  had  been  brought,  —  Mr.  Brownlow 
charged  the  man  with  one  crime  after  another. 

The  father  of  Monks  had  two  children  who  were  half 
brothers,  Monks  and  Oliver  Twist.  The  father  died  sud- 
denly, leaving  in  Mr.  Brownlow's  home  the  portrait  of 
Oliver's  mother,  which  was  hanging  in  the  house-keeper's 
room.  The  striking  likeness  between  this  portrait  and  Oliver 
had  led  Mr.  Brownlow  to  recognise  the  boy  as  the  child  of  his 
dear  old  friend.  Then,  just  when  he  had  determined  to  adopt 
Oliver,  the  boy  had  disappeared,  and  all  efforts  to  find  him 
had  proved  unavailing.  Mr.  Brownlow  knew  that,  although 
the  mother  and  father  were  dead,  the  elder  brother  was  alive, 
and  at  once  commenced  a  search  for  him.  Now  he  had  dis- 
covered him  in  the  man  Monks,  the  friend  of  thieves  and 
murderers,  and  by  a  chance  clue  he  found  also  that  there  had 
been  a  will,  dividing  the  property  between  the  two  brothers. 
That  will  had  been  destroyed,  together  with  all  proofs  of 
Oliver's  parentage,  so  that  Monks  might  have  the  entire 
property.  Fearing  discovery,  Monks  had  bargained  with 
Fagin  to  keep  the  child  a  thief  or  to  kill  him  outright. 

38 


OLIVER     TWIST 

This  revelation  of  his  crime  in  all  its  terrible  details,  told 
in  clear  cutting  tones  by  Mr.  Brownlow,  while  his  eyes  never 
left  the  man's  face,  overwhelmed  the  coward  Monks.  He 
stood  convicted,  and  confessed  his  guilt. 

Then,  because  the  man  was  son  of  his  old  friend,  Mr. 
Brownlow  was  merciful. 

"  Will  you  set  your  hand  to  a  statement  of  truth  and 
facts,  and  repeat  it  before  witnesses  ? "  he  asked. 

"  That  I  promise,"  said  Monks. 

"  Remain  quietly  here  until  such  a  document  is  drawn 
up,  and  proceed  with  me  to  such  a  place  as  I  may  deem 
advisable,  to  attest  it  ?  " 

To  this  also  Monks  agreed. 

"  You  must  do  more  than  that,"  said  Mr.  Brownlow ; 
"  Make  restitution  to  Oliver.  You  have  not  forgotten  the 
provisions  of  the  will.  Carry  them  into  execution  so  far 
as  your  brother  is  concerned,  and  then  go  where  you  please. 
In  this  world  you  need  meet  no  more." 

To  this  also,  at  length  Monks  gave  fearing  assent. 

A  few  days  later  Oliver  found  himself  in  a  travelling 
carriage  rolling  fast  towards  his  native  town,  with  the  Maylies, 
Mrs.  Bedwin,  Dr.  Losberne,  and  Mr.  Grimwig,  while  Mr. 
Brownlow  followed  in  a  post-chaise  with  Monks. 

Oliver  was  much  excited,  for  he  had  been  told  of  the 
disclosures  of  Monks,  which,  together  with  journeying  over 
a  road  which  he  had  last  travelled  on  foot,  a  poor  houseless, 
wandering  boy,  without  a  friend,  or  a  roof  to  shelter  his 
head,  caused  his  heart  to  beat  violently  and  his  breath  to 
come  in  quick  gasps. 

"See  there,  there!"  he  cried,  "that's  the  stile  I  came 
over ;  there  are  the  hedges  I  crept  behind,  for  fear  anyone 
should  overtake  me  and  force  me  back ! " 

As  they  approached  the  town,  and  drove  through  its 

39 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

narrow  streets,  it  became  matter  of  no  small  difficulty  to 
restrain  the  boy  within  reasonable  bounds.  There  was  the 
undertaker's  just  as  it  used  to  be,  only  less  imposing  in 
appearance  than  he  remembered  it.  There  was  the  work- 
house, the  dreary  prison  of  his  youthful  days  ;  there  was  the 
same  lean  porter  standing  at  the  gate.  There  was  nearly 
everything  as  if  he  had  left  it  but  yesterday,  and  all  his  recent 
life  had  been  a  happy  dream. 

They  drove  at  once  to  the  hotel  where  Mr.  Brownlow 
joined  them  with  Monks,  and  there  in  the  presence  of  the 
whole  party,  the  wretched  man  made  his  full  confession  of 
guilt,  and  surrendered  one  half  of  the  property  —  about  three 
thousand  pounds  —  to  his  half-brother,  upon  whom  even  as  he 
spoke,  he  cast  looks  of  hatred  so  violent  that  Oliver  trembled. 
From  some  details  of  his  confession  it  was  also  discovered 
that  Rose  Maylie,  who  was  only  an  adopted  niece  of  Mrs. 
Maylie,  had  been  the  sister  of  Oliver's  mother,  and  was  there- 
fore the  boy's  aunt,  the  first  blood  relation,  except  Monks, 
that  he  had  ever  possessed. 

"  Not  aunt,"  cried  Oliver,  throwing  his  arms  about  her 
neck,  "  I  '11  never  call  her  aunt.  Sister,  my  own,  dear 
sister,  that  something  taught  my  heart  to  love  so  dearly 
from  the  first,  Rose !  dear,  darling  Rose  !  "  And  in  Rose's 
close  embrace,  the  boy  found  compensation  for  all  his  past 
sadness. 

The  only  link  to  his  old  life  which  remained  was  soon 
broken.  Fagin  had  been  captured  too,  sentenced  to  death,  and 
was  in  prison  awaiting  the  fulfilment  of  his  doom.  In  his  pos- 
session he  had  papers  relating  to  Oliver's  parentage,  and  the 
boy  went  with  Mr.  Brownlow  to  the  prison  to  try  to  recover 
them.  With  Mr.  Brownlow,  Fagin  was  obstinately  silent,  but 
to  Oliver  he  whispered  where  they  could  be  found,  and  then 
begged  and  prayed  the  boy  to  help  him  escape  justice,  and 

40 


OLIVER     TWIST 

sent  up  cry  after  cry  that  rang  in  Oliver's  ears  for  months 
afterwards. 

But  youth  and  sorrow  are  seldom  companions  for  long, 
and  our  last  glimpse  of  Oliver  is  of  a  boy  as  thoroughly  happy 
as  one  often  is.  He  is  now  the  adopted  son  of  the  good 
Mr.  Brownlow.  Removing  with  him  and  Mrs.  Bedwin  to 
within  a  mile  of  the  Maylies'  home,  Mr.  Brownlow  gratified 
the  only  remaining  wish  of  Oliver's  warm  and  earnest  heart, 
and  as  the  happy  days  go  swiftly  by,  the  past  becomes  the 
shadow  of  a  dream. 

Several  times  a  year  Mr.  Grimwig  visits  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  it  is  a  favourite  joke  for  Mr.  Brownlow  to  rally  him 
on  his  old  prophecy  concerning  Oliver,  and  to  remind  him 
of  the  night  on  which  they  sat  with  the  watch  between  them 
awaiting  his  return.  But  Mr.  Grimwig  contends  that  he  was 
right  in  the  main,  and  in  proof  thereof  remarks  that  Oliver 
did  not  come  back  after  all,  —  which  always  calls  forth  a  laugh 
on  his  side,  and  increases  his  good  humour. 


TOMMY    TRADDLES 


TOMMY  TRADDLES. 


TOMMY  TRADDLES 


POOR  Traddles!     In  a  tight  sky-blue  suit  that  made 
his  "arms  and  legs  like   German  sausages,  or  roly- 
poly  puddings,  and  with  his  hair  standing  upright, 
giving  him  the  expression  of  a  fretful  porcupine,  he 
was  the  merriest  and  most  miserable  of  all  the  boys  at  Mr. 
Creakle's  school,  called  Salem  House.     I  never  think  of  him 
without  a  strange  disposition  to  laugh,  and  yet  with  tears  in 
my  eyes. 

He  was  always  being  caned  —  I  think  he  was  caned  every 
day  in  the  half-year  I  spent  at  Salem  House,  except  one  holi- 
day Monday  when  he  was  only  ruler'd  on  both  hands  —  and 
was  always  going  to  write  to  his  uncle  about  it,  and  never  did. 
After  laying  his  head  on  the  desk  for  a  little  while,  he  would 
cheer  up  somehow,  begin  to  laugh  again,  and  draw  skeletons 
all  over  his  slate,  before  his  eyes  were  dry.  I  used  at  first  to 
wonder  what  comfort  Traddles  found  in  drawing  skeletons ; 
and  for  some  time  looked  upon  him  as  a  sort  of  a  hermit, 
who  reminded  himself  by  those  symbols  of  mortality  that 
caning  couldn't  last  for  ever.  But  I  believe  he  only  did  it 
because  they  were  easy,  and  did  n't  want  any  features. 

He  was  very  honourable,  Traddles  was ;  and  held  it  as 
a  solemn  duty  in  the  boys  to  stand  by  one  another.  He 
suffered  for  this  code  of  honour  on  several  occasions.  One 
evening  we  had  a  great  spread  up  in  our  room  after  time 
for  lights  to  be  down,  and  we  all  got  happily  out  of  it  but 
Traddles.  He  was  too  unfortunate  even  to  come  through 
a  supper  like  anybody  else.  He  was  taken  ill  in  the  night  — 
quite  prostrate  he  was  —  in  consequence  of  Crab ;  and  after 

45 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

being  drugged  to  an  extent  which  Demple  (whose  father  was 
a  doctor)  said  was  enough  to  undermine  a  horse's  constitution, 
received  a  caning  and  six  chapters  of  Greek  Testament  for 
refusing  to  confess. 

At  another  time,  when  Steerforth  (who  was  the  only  parlour- 
boarder  and  the  lion  of  the  school)  laughed  in  church,  the 
Beadle,  who  thought  the  offender  was  Traddles,  took  him  out. 
I  see  him  now,  going  away  in  custody,  despised  by  the  congre- 
gation. He  never  said  who  was  the  real  offender,  although 
he  smarted  for  it  next  day,  and  was  imprisoned  so  many 
hours  that  he  came  forth  with  a  whole  churchyardful  of  skele- 
tons swarming  all  over  his  Latin  dictionary.  But  he  had  his 
reward.  Steerforth  said  there  was  nothing  of  the  sneak  in 
Traddles,  and  we  all  felt  that  to  be  the  highest  praise. 

On  still  a  third  occasion  during  my  half-year  at  Salem 
House  I  have  a  vivid  recollection  of  Traddles  in  distress  ; 
that  time  for  siding  with  the  down-trodden  under-teacher,  Mr. 
Mell,  in  a  heated  discussion  between  that  gentleman  and 
Steerforth. 

The  discussion  took  place  on  a  Saturday  which  should 
have  properly  been  a  half-holiday,  but  as  Mr.  Creakle  was 
indisposed,  and  the  noise  in  the  playground  would  have  dis- 
turbed him;  and  the  weather  was  not  favourable  for  going 
out  walking,  we  were  ordered  into  school  in  the  afternoon, 
and  set  some  lighter  tasks  than  usual ;  and  Mr.  Mell,  a  pale, 
delicately-built,  little  man,  was  detailed  to  keep  us  in  order, 
which  he  tried  in  vain  to  accomplish. 

Boys  started  in  and  out  of  their  places,  playing  at  puss-in- 
the-corner  with  other  boys  ;  there  were  laughing  boys,  singing 
boys,  talking  boys,  dancing  boys,  howling  boys;  boys  shuffled 
with  their  feet,  boys  whirled  about  him,  grinning,  making  faces, 
mimicking  him  behind  his  back  and  before  his  eyes :  mimick- 
ing his  poverty,  his  boots,  his  coat,  his  mother,  every  thing  be- 

46 


TOMMY     TRADDLES 

longing  to  him  that  they  should  have  had  consideration 
for. 

"  Silence  !  "  cried  Mr.  Mell,  suddenly  rising  up,  and  strik- 
ing his  desk  with  the  book.  "  What  does  this  mean  !  It 's 
impossible  to  bear  it.  It 's  maddening.  How  can  you  do 
it  to  me,  boys  ?  " 

The  boys  all  stopped,  some  suddenly  surprised,  some  half 
afraid,  and  some  sorry  perhaps. 

Steerforth  alone  remained  in  his  lounging  position,  hands 
in  his  pockets,  and  looked  at  Mr.  Mell  with  his  mouth  shut 
up  as  if  he  were  whistling,  when  Mr.  Mell  looked  at  him. 

"  Silence,  Mr.  Steerforth  !  "  said  Mr.  Mell. 

"  Silence  yourself,"  said  Steerforth,  turning  red.  "  Whom 
are  you  talking  to  ?  " 

"  Sit  down  !  "  said  Mr.  Mell. 

"Sit  down  yourself!"  said  Steerforth,  "and  mind  your 
business." 

There  was  a  titter  and  some  applause;  but  Mr.  Mell  was 
so  white,  that  silence  immediately  succeeded. 

"  When  you  make  use  of  your  position  of  favouritism, 
here,  sir,"  pursued  Mr.  Mell,  with  his  lip  trembling  very 
much,  "  to  insult  a  gentleman  —  " 

"A  what?  —  where  is  he  ?  "  said  Steerforth. 

Here  somebody  cried  out,  "  Shame,  J.  Steerforth  !  Too 
bad  !  "  It  was  Traddles ;  whom  Mr.  Mell  instantly  discom- 
fited by  bidding  him  to  hold  his  tongue,  — 

" — to  insult  one  who  is  not  fortunate  in  life,  sir,  and  who 
never  gave  you  the  least  offence,  and  the  many  reasons  for 
not  insulting  whom  you  are  old  enough  and  wise  enough  to 
understand,"  said  Mr.  Mell,  with  his  lip  trembling  more  and 
more,  "  you  commit  a  mean  and  base  action.  You  can  sit 
down  or  stand  up  as  you  please,  sir." 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Mell,"  said  Steerforth,  coming  for- 

47 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

ward,  "  once  for  all.  When  you  take  the  liberty  of  calling  me 
mean  or  base,  or  anything  of  that  sort,  you  are  an  impudent 
beggar.  You  are  always  a  beggar,  you  know ;  but  when  you 
do  that,  you  are  an  impudent  beggar." 

Had  Mr.  Creakle  not  entered  the  room  at  that  moment, 
there  is  no  knowing  what  might  have  happened,  for  the  highest 
pitch  of  excitement  had  been  reached  by  combatants  and 
lookers-on. 

Both  Steerforth  and  the  under-teacher  at  once  turned 
to  Mr.  Creakle,  pouring  out  in  his  attentive  ear  the  story 
of  the  burning  wrong  to  which  each  had  subjected  the  other, 
and  the  end  of  the  whole  affair  was  that  Mr.  Mell  —  having 
discovered  that  Mr.  Creakle's  veneration  for  money,  and  fear 
of  offending  his  head-pupil,  far  outweighed  any  consideration 
for  the  teacher's  feelings,  —  taking  his  flute  and  a  few 
books  from  his  desk,  and  leaving  the  key  in  it  for  his 
successor,  went  out  of  the  school,  with  his  property  under 
his  arm. 

Mr.  Creakle  then  made  a  speech,  in  which  he  thanked 
Steerforth  for  asserting  (though  perhaps  too  warmly)  the 
independence  and  respectability  of  Salem  House ;  and  which 
he  wound  up  by  shaking  hands  with  Steerforth  ;  while  we 
gave  three  cheers  —  I  did  not  quite  know  what  for,  but  I 
supposed  for  Steerforth,  and  joined  in  them,  though  I  felt 
miserable.  Mr.  Creakle  then  caned  Tommy  Traddles  for 
being  discovered  in  tears,  instead  of  cheers,  and  went  away 
leaving  us  to  ourselves. 

Steerforth  was  very  angry  with  Traddles,  and  said  he  was 
glad  he  had  caught  it.  Poor  Traddles,  who  had  passed  the 
stage  of  lying  with  his  head  upon  the  desk,  and  was  relieving 
himself  as  usual  with  a  burst  of  skeletons,  said  he  did  n't  care. 
Mr.  Mell  was  ill-used. 

"  Who  has  ill-used  him,  you  girl  ?  "  said  Steerforth. 

48 


TOMMY     TRADDLES 

"  Why,  you  have,"  returned  Traddles. 

"What  have  I  done?  "  said  Steerforth. 

"What  have  you  done?"  retorted  Traddles.  "Hurt  his 
feelings  and  lost  him  his  situation." 

"His  feelings!"  repeated  Steerforth,  disdainfully.  "His 
feelings  will  soon  get  the  better  of  it,  I  '11  be  bound.  His 
feelings  are  not  like  yours,  Miss  Traddles !  As  to  his  situa- 
tion —  which  was  a  precious  one,  was  n't  it  ?  —  do  you  suppose 
I  am  not  going  to  write  home  and  take  care  that  he  gets  some 
money  ?  " 

We  all  thought  this  intention  very  noble  in  Steerforth, 
whose  mother  was  a  rich  widow,  and,  it  was  said,  would  do 
anything  he  asked  her.  We  were  all  very  glad  to  see  Trad- 
dies  so  put  down,  and  exalted  Steerforth  to  the  skies,  and 
none  of  us  appreciated  at  that  time  that  our  hero,  J.  Steerforth 
was  very,  very  small  indeed,  as  to  character,  in  comparison 
to  funny,  unfortunate  Tommy  Traddles. 

Years  later,  when  Salem  House  was  only  a  memory,  and 
we  were  both  men,  Traddles  and  I  met  again.  He  had  the 
same  simple  character  and  good  temper  as  of  old,  and  had,  too, 
some  of  his  old  unlucky  fortune,  which  clung  to  him  always  ; 
yet  notwithstanding  that  —  as  all  of  his  trouble  came  from 
good-natured  meddling  with  other  people's  affairs,  for  their 
benefit,  I  am  not  at  all  certain  that  I  would  not  risk  my 
chance  of  success  —  in  the  broadest  meaning  of  that  word  — 
in  the  next  world  surely,  if  not  in  this,  against  all  the  Steer- 
forths  living,  if  I  were  Tommy  Traddles. 

Poor  Traddles?  —  No,  happy  Traddles  ! 


"DEPUTY" 


DEPUTY. 


"DEPUTY 


f  "^HEY  were  certainly  the  very  oddest  pair  that  ever 
the  moon  shone  on,  —  Stony  Durdles  and  the  boy 
"  Deputy." 

Durdles  was  a  stone-mason,  from  which  occupa- 
tion, undoubtedly,  came  his  nickname  "  Stony,"  and  Deputy 
was  a  hideous  small  boy  hired  by  Durdles  to  pelt  him  home 
if  he  found  him  out  too  late  at  night,  which  duty  the  boy 
faithfully  performed.  In  all  the  length  and  breadth  of  Clois- 
terham  there  was  no  more  noted  man  than  the  stone-mason, 
Durdles,  not,  I  regret  to  say,  on  account  of  his  virtues,  but 
rather  because  of  his  talent  for  remaining  out  late  at  night, 
and  not  being  able  to  guide  his  steps  homeward.  There  is 
a  coarser  term  which  might  have  been  applied  to  this  talent 
of  Durdles,  but  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  that,  here  and 
now;  what  we  desire  is  an  introduction  to  the  small  boy  who 
is  Durdles's  shadow. 

One  night,  John  Jasper,  choir-master  in  Cloisterham 
Cathedral,  on  his  way  home  through  the  Close,  is  brought 
to  a  standstill  by  the  spectacle  of  Stony  Durdles,  dinner-bundle 
and  all,  leaning  against  the  iron  railing  of  the  burial-ground, 
while  a  hideous  small  boy  in  rags  flings  stones  at  him,  in 
the  moonlight.  Sometimes  the  stones  hit  him,  and  sometimes 
they  miss  him,  but  Durdles  seems  indifferent  to  either  fortune. 
The  hideous  small  boy,  on  the  contrary,  whenever  he  hits 
Durdles,  blows  a  whistle  of  triumph  through  a  jagged  gap 
in  the  front  of  his  mouth,  where  half  his  teeth  are  wanting; 
and  whenever  he  misses  him,  yelps  out,  "  Mulled  agin  ! " 

S3 


TEN    BOYS    from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

and  tries  to  atone  for  the  failure  by  taking  a  more  correct  and 
vicious  aim. 

"  What  are  you  doing  to  the  man  ? "  demands  Jasper. 

"  Makin'  a  cock-shy  of  him,"  replies  the  hideous  small 
boy. 

"  Give  me  those  stones  in  your  hand." 

"  Yes,  I  '11  give  'em  you  down  your  throat,  if  you  come 
a  ketchin'  hold  of  me,"  says  the  small  boy,  shaking  himself 
loose  from  Jasper's  touch,  and  backing.  "  I  '11  smash  your  eye 
if  you  don't  look  out !  " 

"  What  has  the  man  done  to  you  ?  " 

"  He  won't  go  home." 

"  What  is  that  to  you  ? " 

"He  gives  me  a  'apenny  to  pelt  him  home  if  I  ketches 
him  out  too  late,"  says  the  boy.  And  then  chants,  like 
a  little  savage,  half  stumbling,  and  half  dancing,  among  the 
rags  and  laces  of  his  dilapidated  boots,  — 

Widdy  widdy  wen  I 

I — ket  —  ches — '/'/»  out  —  ar  —  ter  ten, 

Widdy  widdy  wy  ! 

'Then  —  *E  —  dorit  — go  —  then  —  /  shy, 

Widdy  widdy  Wakecock  warning  I 

—  with  a  sweeping  emphasis  on  the  last  word,  and  one  more 
shot  at  Durdles.  The  bit  of  doggerel  is  evidently  a  sign 
which  Durdles  understands  to  mean  either  that  he  must  prove 
himself  able  to  stand  clear  of  the  shots,  or  betake  himself 
immediately  homeward,  but  he  does  not  stir. 

John  Jasper  crosses  over  to  the  railing  where  the  Stony 
One  is  still  profoundly  meditating. 

"  Do  you  know  this  thing,  this  child  ?"  he  asks. 

"Deputy,"  says  Durdles,  with  a  nod. 

"  Is  that  its  —  his  —  name  ?  " 

54 


'DEPUTY' 

"  Deputy,"  assents  Durdles,  whereupon  the  small  boy  feels 
called  upon  to  speak  for  himself. 

"  I  'm  man-servant  up  at  the  Travellers  Twopenny  in 
Gas  Works  Carding,"  he  explains.  "  All  us  man-servants 
at  Travellers  Lodgings  is  named  Deputy,  but  I  never  pleads 
to  no  name,  mind  yer.  When  they  says  to  me  in  the  Lockup, 
*  What 's  your  name  ? '  I  says  to  'em  c  find  out.'  Likewise 
when  they  says,  '  What 's  your  religion  ? '  I  says,  'find  out' !  " 
After  delivering  himself  of  this  speech,  he  withdraws  into  the 
road  and  taking  aim,  he  resumes  : — 

Widdy  widdy  wen  I 

I —  kef  —  ches  —  'im  —  out  —  ar  —  ter  — 

"  Hold  your  hand ! "  cries  Jasper,  "  and  don't  throw 
while  I  stand  so  near  him,  or  I  '11  kill  you  !  Come  Durdles, 
let  me  walk  home  with  you  to-night.  Shall  I  carry  your 
bundle  ?  " 

"  Not  on  any  account,"  replies  Durdles,  adjusting  it,  and 
continuing  to  talk  in  a  rambling  way,  as  he  and  Jasper  walk 
on  together. 

"  This  creature,  Deputy,  is  behind  us,"  says  Jasper,  look- 
ing back.  "  Is  he  to  follow  us  ?  " 

The  relations  between  Durdles  and  Deputy  seem  to  be 
of  a  capricious  kind,  for  on  Durdles  turning  to  look  at 
the  boy,  Deputy  makes  a  wide  circuit  into  the  road  and  stands 
on  the  defensive. 

"You  never  cried  Widdy  Warning  before  you  begun  to- 
night," cries  Durdles,  unexpectedly  reminded  of,  or  imagining 
an  injury. 

"  Yer  lie ;  I  did,"  says  Deputy,  in  his  only  polite  form 
of  contradiction,  whereupon  Durdles  turns  back  again  and 
forgets  the  offence  as  unexpectedly  as  he  had  recalled  it,  and 
says  to  Jasper,  in  reference  to  Deputy. 

55 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

"  Own  brother,  sir,  to  Peter,  the  Wild  Boy !  But  I  gave 
him  an  object  in  life." 

"  At  which  he  takes  aim  ?  "  Mr.  Jasper  suggests. 

"  That  is  it,  sir,"  returns  Durdles ;  "  at  which  he  takes 
aim.  I  took  him  in  hand  and  gave  him  an  object.  What 
was  he  before  ?  A  destroyer.  What  work  did  he  do  ? 
Nothing  but  destruction.  What  did  he  earn  by  it  ?  Short 
terms  in  Cloisterham  jail.  Not  a  person,  not  a  piece  of 
property,  not  a  winder,  not  a  horse,  nor  a  dog,  nor  a  cat,  nor 
a  bird,  nor  a  fowl,  nor  a  pig,  but  that  he  stoned  for  want 
of  an  enlightened  object.  I  put  that  enlightened  object  before 
him,  and  now  he  can  turn  his  honest  halfpenny  by  the  three 
pennorth  a  week." 

"  I  wonder  he  has  no  competitors." 

"  He  has  plenty,  Mr.  Jasper,  but  he  stones  'em  all 
away." 

"  He  still  keeps  behind  us,"  repeats  Jasper,  looking  back, 
"  is  he  to  follow  us  ?  " 

"  We  can't  help  going  round  by  the  Travellers  Twopenny, 
if  we  go  the  short  way,  which  is  the  back  way,"  Durdles 
answers,  "  and  we  '11  drop  him  there." 

So  they  go  on ;  Deputy  attentive  to  every  movement 
of  the  Stony  One,  until  at  length  nearly  at  their  destination 
Durdles  whistles,  and  calls  —  "  Holloa,  you  Deputy  !  " 

"  Widdy !"  is  Deputy's  shrill  response,  standing  off  again. 
"  Catch  that  ha'penny.     And  don't  let  me  see  any  more  of 
you  to-night,  after  we  come  to  the  Travellers  Twopenny." 

"  Warning ! "  returns  Deputy,  having  caught  the  half- 
penny, and  appearing  by  this  mystic  word  to  express  his  assent 
to  the  arrangement,  then  off  he  darts. 

Such  was  the  occupation  of  the  small  boy,  Deputy,  night 
after  night,  week  after  week,  month  after  month,  during  the 
year  when  we  catch  a  glimpse  of  him,  and  it  is  reasonable 

i  .56. 


"DEPUTY" 

to  suppose  that  the  remainder  of  his  life,  after  we  lose  sight 
of  him  was  spent,  in  making  a  cock-shy  of  everything  that 
came  in  his  way,  whether  Durdles  or  inanimate  objects.  When 
he  had  nothing  living  to  stone,  I  believe  that  he  used  to  stone 
the  dead,  through  the  railing  of  the  churchyard.  He  found 
this  a  relishing  and  piquing  pursuit ;  firstly,  because  their 
resting  place  is  supposed  to  be  sacred,  and,  secondly,  because 
the  tall  headstones  are  sufficiently  like  themselves  to  justify 
the  delicious  fancy  that  they  are  hurt  when  hit. 

We  have  nothing  told  us  to  support  the  theory  that 
Deputy's  life  ever  changed  in  its  routine  of  work,  and  I  am 
sure  you  agree  with  me  that  there  were  never  an  odder  pair 
than  the  two  :  Durdles,  the  stone-mason,  and  Deputy,  his 
servant. 

Perhaps  you  will  be  in  Cloisterham  at  some  not  far  distant 
time ;  if  so,  wander  out  at  night  in  the  old  graveyard,  when 
the  moon  is  up,  and  in  among  the  cathedral  crypts,  if  you  can 
gain  access  to  them  ;  and  see  if  from  some  shadowy  corner 
of  lane  or  building  does  not  start  out  before  you  the  wraith 
of  the  hideous  small  boy,  Deputy,  eluding  your  touch,  and 
chanting  as  he  dances  in  front  of  you  the  old  song  which  was 
the  badge  of  his  office  as  the  keeper  of  Durdles,  — 

Widdy  widdy  wen! 

I  —  kef — ches  —  Jim  —  out  —  ar  —  ter  —  ten, 

Widdy  widdy  wy  / 

Then  —  yE  —  don't — go  —  then  —  7  —  shy, 

Widdy  widdy  Wakecock  Warning! 


DOTHEBOYS    HALL 


X 
H 
O 

Q 


DOTHEBOYS  HALL 


E 


DUCATtON.— At  Mr.  Wackford  Squeers's  Aca- 
demy,  Dotheboys  Hall,  at  the  delightful  village 
j  of  Dotheboys,  near  Greta  Bridge  in  Yorkshire, 
Youth  are  boarded,  clothed,  booked,  furnished 
with  pocket-money,  provided  with  all  necessaries,  instructed 
in  all  languages  living  and  dead,  mathematics,  orthography 
geometry,  astronomy,  trigonometry,  the  use  of  the  globes, 
algebra,  single  stick  (if  required),  writing,  arithmetic,  fortifi- 
cation, and  every  other  branch  of  classical  literature.  Terms, 
twenty  guineas  per  annum.  No  extras,  no  vacations,  and  diet 
unparalleled.  Mr.  Squeers  is  in  town,  and  attends  daily  from 
one  till  four,  at  the  Saracen's  Head,  Snow  Hill.  N.  B.  An 
able  assistant  wanted.  Annual  salary  ^5.  A  Master  of  Arts 
would  be  preferred." 

When  this  advertisement  in  the  "  London  Herald  "  came 
to  the  notice  of  Mr.  Nicholas  Nickleby,  then  in  search  of 
a  position  as  teacher,  it  seemed  to  be  the  opening  for  which 
he  was  looking,  and  the  next  day  he  hastened  to  the  Saracen's 
Head,  Snow  Hill,  to  have  an  interview  with  Mr.  Wackford 
Squeers. 

Mr.  Squeers's  appearance  was  not  prepossessing.  He 
had  but  one  eye,  and  the  popular  prejudice  runs  in  favour 
of  two.  The  blank  side  of  his  face  was  much  wrinkled  and 
puckered  up,  which  gave  him  a  very  sinister  appearance, 
especially  when  he  smiled.  His  hair  was  very  flat  and  shiny, 
save  at  the  ends,  where  it  was  brushed  stiffly  up  from  a  low 
protruding  forehead,  which  assorted  well  with  his  harsh  voice 

61 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES     DICKENS 

and  coarse  manner.  He  was  about  two  or  three  and  fifty, 
and  a  trifle  below  the  middle  size ;  he  wore  a  white  necker- 
chief and  a  suit  of  scholastic  black ;  but  his  coat  sleeves  being 
a  great  deal  too  long,  and  his  trousers  a  great  deal  too  short, 
he  appeared  ill  at  ease  in  his  clothes. 

In  the  corner  of  the  room  with  Mr.  Squeers  was  a  very 
small  deal  trunk,  tied  round  with  a  scanty  piece  of  cord,  and  on 
the  trunk  was  perched  — •  his  lace-up  half-boots  and  corduroy 
trousers  dangling  in  the  air  —  a  diminutive  boy,  with  his 
shoulders  drawn  up  to  his  ears,  and  his  hands  planted  on  his 
knees,  who  glanced  timidly  at  the  schoolmaster  from  time  to 
time,  with  evident  dread  and  apprehension,  and  at  last  gave  a 
violent  sneeze. 

"  Halloa,  sir !  "  growled  the  schoolmaster,  turning  round. 
"What's  that,  sir?" 

"  Nothing,  please  sir,"  said  the  little  boy. 

"  Nothing,  sir ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Squeers. 

"  Please,  sir,  I  sneezed,"  rejoined  the  boy,  trembling  till  the 
little  trunk  shook  under  him. 

"  Oh  !  sneezed,  did  you  ? "  retorted  Mr.  Squeers.  "  Then 
what  did  you  say  f  nothing '  for,  sir  ?  " 

In  default  of  a  better  answer  to  this  question,  the  little  boy 
screwed  a  couple  of  knuckles  into  each  of  his  eyes  and  began 
to  cry ;  wherefore  Mr.  Squeers  knocked  him  off  the  trunk 
with  a  blow  on  one  side  of  his  face,  and  knocked  him  on  again 
with  a  blow  on  the  other. 

"  Wait  till  I  get  you  down  into  Yorkshire,  my  young  gentle- 
man," said  Mr.  Squeers,  "  and  then  I  '11  give  you  the  rest. 
Will  you  hold  that  noise,  sir  ? " 

"Ye  —  ye  —  yes,"  sobbed  the  little  boy,  rubbing  his  face 
very  hard. 

"Then  do  so  at  once,  sir,"  said  Squeers.  "Do  you 
hear?" 

62 


DOTHEBOYS     HALL 

As  this  admonition  was  accompanied  with  a  threatening 
gesture,  and  uttered  with  a  savage  aspect,  the  little  boy  rubbed 
his  face  harder,  and  between  alternately  sniffing  and  choking, 
gave  no  further  vent  to  his  emotions. 

"  Mr.  Squeers,"  said  the  waiter,  at  this  juncture ;  "  here 's  a 
gentleman  asking  for  you." 

"  Show  the  gentleman  in,  Richard,"  replied  Mr.  Squeers,  in 
a  soft  voice.  "  Put  your  handkerchief  in  your  pocket,  you 
little  scoundrel,  or  I  '11  murder  you  when  the  gentleman  goes." 

The  schoolmaster  had  scarcely  uttered  these  words  in  a 
fierce  whisper,  when  the  stranger  entered.  Affecting  not  to 
see  him,  Mr.  Squeers  feigned  to  be  intent  upon  mending  a  pen, 
and  offering  benevolent  advice  to  his  youthful  pupil. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Mr.  Squeers,  "  All  people  have  their 
trials.  This  early  trial  of  yours  that  is  fit  to  make  your  little 
heart  burst,  and  your  very  eyes  come  out  of  your  head  with 
crying,  what  is  it  ?  Less  than  nothing.  You  are  leaving  your 
friends,  but  you  will  have  a  father  in  me,  my  dear,  and  a  mother 
in  Mrs.  Squeers.  At  the  delightful  village  of  Dotheboys,  near 
Greta  Bridge  in  Yorkshire,  where  youth  are  boarded,  clothed, 
booked,  washed,  furnished  with  pocket-money,  provided  with 
all  necessaries  —  " 

Here  the  waiting  stranger  interrupted  with  inquiries  about 
sending  his  boys  to  Mr.  Squeers,  and  before  he  and  Mr.  Squeers 
had  finished  their  talk,  Nicholas  Nickleby  entered.  He  briefly 
stated  his  desire  for  a  position,  his  having  seen  Mr.  Squeers's 
"  Herald"  advertisement,  and,  after  more  or  less  questioning  and 
examination  from  the  schoolmaster,  Nicholas  was  engaged  as 
assistant  master  for  Dotheboys  Hall,  and  it  was  settled  that  he 
was  to  go  by  coach  with  Mr.  Squeers  at  eight  o'clock  the  next 
morning. 

When  he  arrived,  punctually  at  the  appointed  hour,  he 
found  that  learned  gentleman  sitting  at  breakfast,  with  five 

63 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

little  boys,  whom  he  was  to  take  down  with  him,  ranged  in  a 
row  on  the  opposite  seat.  Mr.  Squeers  had  before  him  a  small 
measure  of  coffee,  a  plate  of  hot  toast,  and  a  cold  round  of  beef, 
but  he  was  at  that  moment  intent  on  preparing  breakfast  for 
the  little  boys. 

"  This  is  twopenn'orth  of  milk,  is  it  waiter  ? "  said  Mr. 
Squeers. 

"  That  *s  twopenn'orth,  sir,"  replied  the  waiter. 

"  What  a  rare  article  milk  is,  to  be  sure,  in  London  !  "  said 
Mr.  Squeers,  with  a  sigh.  "  Just  fill  that  mug  up  with  luke- 
warm water,  William,  will  you  ?  " 

"To  the  wery  top,  sir?  "  inquired  the  waiter.  "Why,  the 
milk  will  be  drownded." 

"  Never  you  mind  that,"  replied  Mr.  Squeers.  "  Serve  it 
right  for  being  so  dear.  You  ordered  that  thick  bread  and 
butter  for  three,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Coming  directly,  sir." 

"You  needn't  hurry  yourself,"  said  Squeers,  "there's 
plenty  of  time.  Conquer  your  passions,  boys,  and  don't  be 
eager  after  vittles."  As  he  uttered  this  moral  precept,  Mr. 
Squeers  took  a  large  bite  out  of  the  cold  beef,  and  recognised 
Nicholas. 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  Squeers.  "  Here  we  are, 
a  breakfasting,  you  see." 

Nicholas  did  not  see  that  anybody  was  breakfasting,  except 
Mr.  Squeers ;  but  he  bowed  with  all  becoming  reverence,  and 
looked  as  cheerful  as  he  could. 

"  Oh,  that 's  the  milk  and  water,  is  it,  William  ? "  said  Mr. 
Squeers.  "  Very  good ;  don't  forget  the  bread  and  buttei 
presently.** 

At  this  fresh  mention  of  the  bread  and  butter,  the  five  little 
boys  looked  very  eager,  and  followed  the  waiter  out,  with  theii 
eyes ;  meanwhile  Mr.  Squeers  tasted  the  milk  and  water. 

64 


DOTHEBOYS     HALL 

"  Ah,"  said  that  gentleman,  smacking  his  lips,  "  here 's 
richness !  Think  of  the  many  beggars  and  orphans  in  the 
streets  that  would  be  glad  of  this,  little  boys.  A  shocking 
thing  hunger  is,  is  n't  it,  Mr.  Nickleby  ? " 

"  Very  shocking,  sir,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  When  I  say  number  one,"  pursued  Mr.  Squeers,  put- 
ting the  mug  before  the  children,  "  the  boy  on  the  left  hand 
nearest  the  window  may  take  a  drink ;  and  when  I  say  number 
two,  the  boy  next  him  will  go  in,  and  so  till  we  come  to 
number  five,  which  is  the  last  boy.  Are  you  ready?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  cried  all  the  little  boys  with  great  eagerness. 

"  That 's  right,"  said  Squeers,  calmly  getting  on  with  his 
breakfast ;  "  keep  ready  till  I  tell  you  to  begin.  Subdue 
your  appetites,  my  dears,  and  you  Ve  conquered  human 
natur.  This  is  the  way  we  inculcate  strength  of  mind,  Mr. 
Nickleby,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  turning  to  Nicholas. 

Nicholas  murmured  something  —  he  knew  not  what  —  in 
reply  ;  and  the  little  boys,  dividing  their  gaze  between  the 
mug,  the  bread  and  butter  (which  by  this  time  had  arrived) 
and  every  morsel  which  Mr.  Squeers  took  into  his  mouth, 
remained  with  strained  eyes  in  torments  of  expectation. 

"  Thank  God  for  a  good  breakfast,"  said  Squeers  when 
he  had  finished.  "  Number  one  may  take  a  drink." 

Number  one  seized  the  mug  ravenously,  and  had  just 
drunk  enough  to  make  him  wish  for  more,  when  Mr.  Squeers 
gave  the  signal  for  number  two,  who  gave  up  at  the  same 
interesting  moment  to  number  three ;  and  the  process  was 
repeated  until  the  milk  and  water  terminated  with  number 
five. 

"And  now,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  dividing  the  bread  and 
butter  for  three  into  as  many  portions  as  there  were  children, 
"  you  had  better  look  sharp  with  your  breakfast,  for  the  horn 
will  blow  in  a  minute  or  two,  and  then  every  boy  leaves  off." 
S  65 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

Permission  being  thus  given  to  fall  to,  the  boys  began 
to  eat  voraciously,  and  in  desperate  haste ;  while  the  school- 
master (who  was  in  high  good  humour  after  his  meal)  looked 
smilingly  on.  In  a  very  short  time  the  horn  was  heard. 

"  I  thought  it  would  n't  be  long,"  said  Squeers,  jumping 
up  and  producing  a  little  basket  from  under  the  seat;  "put 
what  you  have  n't  had  time  to  eat,  in  here,  boys.  You  '11 
want  it  on  the  road ! " 

Nicholas  was  considerably  startled  by  these  very  econo- 
mical arrangements  ;  but  he  had  no  time  to  reflect  upon  them, 
for  the  little  boys  had  to  be  got  up  to  the  top  of  the  coach, 
and  their  boxes  had  to  be  brought  out  and  put  in,  and  Mr. 
Squeers's  luggage  was  to  be  seen  carefully  deposited  in  the 
boot,  and  all  these  offices  were  in  his  department. 

Presently,  however,  the  coach  was  off,  and  they  had  started 
on  their  long  trip,  made  doubly  long  by  the  severity  of  the 
weather,  which  caused  them  to  be  detained  several  times ; 
so  it  was  not  until  six  o'clock  the  following  night,  that  he 
and  Mr.  Squeers,  and  the  little  boys,  were  all  put  down 
together  at  the  George  and  New  Inn,  Greta  Bridge. 

"  Is  it  much  farther  to  Dotheboys  Hall,  sir  ? "  asked 
Nicholas,  when  they  had  started  off,  the  little  boys  in  one 
vehicle,  he  and  Mr.  Squeers  in  another. 

"  About  three  mile  from  here,"  replied  Squeers.  "  But 
you  "need  n't  call  it  a  Hall  down  here.  The  fact  is,  it  ain't 
a  Hall,"  observed  Squeers,  drily. 

"  Oh,  indeed  ! "  said  Nicholas,  whom  this  piece  of  intelli- 
gence much  astonished. 

"  No,"  replied  Squeers.  "  We  call  it  a  Hall  up  in  London, 
because  it  sounds  better,  but  they  don't  know  it  by  that 
name  in  these  parts.  A  man  may  call  his  house  an  island 
if  he  likes ;  there 's  no  act  of  Parliament  against  that,  I 
believe  ? " 

66 


DOTHEBOYS     HALL 

"  I  believe  not,  sir,"  rejoined  Nicholas. 

Squeers  eyed  his  companion  slily  at  the  conclusion  of  this 
little  dialogue,  and  finding  that  he  had  grown  thoughtful  and 
appeared  in  nowise  disposed  to  volunteer  any  observations, 
contented  himself  with  lashing  the  pony  until  they  reached 
their  journey's  end. 

"Jump  out,"  said  Squeers.  "Hallo  there!  Come  and 
put  this  horse  up.  Be  quick,  will  you ! " 

While  the  schoolmaster  was  uttering  these  and  other  impa- 
tient cries,  Nicholas  had  time  to  observe  that  the  school  was  a 
long,  cold-looking  house,  one  story  high,  with  a  few  strag- 
gling outbuildings  behind,  and  a  barn  and  stable  adjoining. 
Mr.  Squeers  had  dismounted,  and  after  ordering  the  boy, 
whom  he  called  Smike,  to  see  to  the  pony,  and  to  take  care 
that  he  had  n't  any  more  corn  that  night,  he  told  Nicholas 
to  wait  at  the  front  door  a  minute,  while  he  went  round 
and  let  him  in. 

A  host  of  unpleasant  misgivings,  which  had  been  crowding 
upon  Nicholas  during  the  whole  journey,  thronged  into  his 
mind.  His  great  distance  from  home,  and  the  impossibility 
of  reaching  it,  except  on  foot,  should  he  feel  ever  so  anxious, 
presented  itself  to  him  in  most  alarming  colours;  and  as  he 
looked  up  at  the  dreary  house  and  dark  windows,  and  upon 
the  wild  country  round,  covered  with  snow,  he  felt  a  depression 
of  heart  and  spirit  which  he  never  had  experienced  before. 

"  Now,  then ! "  cried  Squeers,  poking  his  head  out  at  the 
front  door,  "  Where  are  you,  Nickleby  ?  " 

"  Here,  sir,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  Come  in,  then,"  said  Squeers,  "  the  wind  blows  in,  at  this 
door,  fit  to  knock  a  man  off  his  legs." 

Nicholas  sighed,  and  hurried  in.  Mr.  Squeers  ushered  him 
into  a  small  parlour  scantily  furnished  with  a  few  chairs,  a  yellow 
map  hung  against  the  wall,  and  a  couple  of  tables ;  one  of  which 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

bore  some  preparations  for  supper.  Mrs.  Squeers  then  came 
in,  and  was  duly  made  acquainted  with  Nicholas,  and  after  some 
conversation  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Squeers,  a  young  servant 
girl  brought  in  a  Yorkshire  pie,  which  being  set  upon  the 
table,  the  boy  Smike  appeared  with  a  jug  of  ale. 

Mr.  Squeers  meanwhile  was  emptying  his  great-coat 
pockets  of  letters  to  different  boys,  which  he  had  brought 
down.  Smike  glanced,  with  an  anxious  and  timid  expression, 
at  the  papers,  as  if  with  a  sickly  hope  that  one  among  them 
might  relate  to  him.  The  look  was  a  very  painful  one,  and 
went  to  Nicholas's  heart  at  once ;  for  it  told  a  sad  history. 
He  considered  the  boy  more  attentively,  and  was  surprised  to 
observe  the  extraordinary  mixture  of  garments  which  formed 
his  dress.  Although  he  could  not  have  been  less  than  eighteen 
or  nineteen  years  old,  and  was  tall  for  that  age,  he  wore  a 
skeleton  suit,  which,  though  most  absurdly  short  in  the  arms 
and  legs,  was  quite  wide  enough  for  his  attenuated  frame.  In 
order  that  the  lower  part  of  his  legs  might  be  in  keeping  with 
this  singular  dress,  he  had  a  very  large  pair  of  boots,  originally 
made  for  tops,  but  now  too  patched  and  tattered  for  a  beggar. 
He  was  lame,  and  as  he  feigned  to  be  busy  arranging  the  table, 
glanced  at  the  letters  with  a  look  so  keen,  and  yet  so  dispirited 
and  hopeless  that  Nicholas  could  hardly  bear  to  watch  him. 

"  What  are  you  bothering  about  there,  Smike  ?  "  cried 
Mrs.  Squeers;  "let  the  things  alone,  can't  you  ?" 

"  Eh,"  said  Squeers,  looking  up.     "  Oh,  it 's  you,  is  it?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  youth,  pressing  his  hands  together, 
as  though  to  control,  by  force,  the  nervous  wandering  of  his 
fingers.  "  Is  there  —  " 

"  Well !  "  said  Squeers. 

"Have  you — did  anybody  —  has  nothing  been  heard  — 
about  me  ?  " 

"Not   a   word,"    resumed   Squeers,  "and  never   will    be. 

68 


DOTHEBOYS     HALL 

Now,  this  is  a  pretty  sort  of  thing,  is  n't  it,  that  you  should 
have  been  left  here,  all  these  years,  and  no  money  paid  after 
the  first  six  —  nor  no  notice  taken,  nor  no  clue  to  be  got  who 
you  belong  to?  It's  a  pretty  sort  of  thing  that  I  should  have 
to  feed  a  great  fellow  like  you,  and  never  hope  to  get  one 
penny  for  it,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

The  boy  put  his  hand  to  his  head  as  if  he  were  making 
an  effort  to  recollect  something,  and  then,  looking  vacantly 
at  his  questioner,  gradually  broke  into  a  smile,  and  limped 
away. 

The  following  morning,  when  Nicholas  appeared  downstairs, 
Mrs.  Squeers  was  in  a  state  of  great  excitement. 

"  I  can't  find  the  school  spoon  anywhere,"  she  said  anxiously. 

"  Never  mind  it,  my  dear,"  observed  Squeers  in  a  soothing 
manner ;  "  it 's  of  no  consequence." 

"  No  consequence  ?  Why,  how  you  talk  !  "  retorted  Mrs. 
Squeers  sharply,  "isn't  it  brimstone  morning?  " 

"  I  forgot,  my  dear,"  rejoined  Squeers ;  "  yes,  it  certainly 
is.  We  purify  the  boys'  bloods  now  and  then,  Nickleby." 

"Oh  !  nonsense,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Squeers.  "  If  the  young 
man  comes  to  be  a  teacher  here,  let  him  understand,  at  once, 
that  we  don't  want  any  foolery  about  the  boys.  They  have 
the  brimstone  and  treacle,  partly  because  if  they  had  n't  some- 
thing or  other  in  the  way  of  medicine  they  'd  be  always  ailing 
and  giving  a  world  of  trouble,  and  partly  because  it  spoils  their 
appetites  and  comes  cheaper  than  breakfast  and  dinner.  So,  it 
does  them  good  and  us  good  at  the  same  time,  and  that 's  fair 
enough,  I'm  sure  !  " 

"  But  come,"  said  Squeers,  "  let 's  go  to  the  schoolroom  ; 
and  lend  me  a  hand  with  my  school-coat,  will  you  ? " 

Nicholas  assisted  his  master  to  put  on  an  old  fustian  shoot- 
ing jacket,  and  Squeers,  arming  himself  with  his  cane,  led  the 
way  across  a  yard,  to  a  door  in  the  rear  of  the  house. 

69 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

"  There,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  as  they  stepped  in  together ; 
"  this  is  our  shop,  Nickleby  ! " 

The  "  shop  "  was  a  bare  and  dirty  room,  with  a  couple  of 
windows,  whereof  a  tenth  part  might  be  of  glass,  the  remainder 
being  stopped  up  with  old  copybooks  and  paper.  There  were 
a  couple  of  long,  old  rickety  desks,  cut  and  notched,  and 
inked,  and  damaged,  in  every  possible  way ;  two  or  three 
forms ;  a  detached  desk  for  Squeers ;  and  another  for  his  assist- 
ant. The  ceiling  was  supported,  like  that  of  a  barn,  by  cross 
beams  and  rafters ;  and  the  walls  were  so  stained  and  discol- 
oured, that  it  was  impossible  to  tell  whether  they  had  ever 
been  touched  with  paint  or  whitewash. 

But  the  pupils  !  How  the  last  faint  traces  of  hope  faded 
from  the  mind  of  Nicholas  as  he  looked  in  dismay  around ! 
There  were  pale  and  haggard  faces,  lank  and  bony  figures, 
boys  of  stunted  growth ;  little  faces  which  should  have  been 
handsome,  darkened  with  the  scowl  of  sullen,  dogged  suffer- 
ing ;  vicious-faced  boys,  brooding  with  leaden  eyes,  with  every 
kindly  sympathy  and  affection  blasted  in  its  birth,  with  every 
young  and  healthy  feeling  flogged  and  starved  down. 

And  yet  this  scene,  painful  as  it  was,  had  its  grotesque 
features.  Mrs.  Squeers  stood  at  one  of  the  desks,  presiding 
over  an  immense  basin  of  brimstone  and  treacle,  of  which 
delicious  compound  she  administered  a  large  instalment  to 
each  boy  in  succession:  using  for  the  purpose  a  common 
wooden  spoon,  which  widened  every  young  gentleman's  mouth 
considerably :  they  being  all  obliged,  under  heavy  corporal 
penalties,  to  take  in  the  whole  of  the  bowl  at  a  gasp. 

In  another  corner,  huddled  together  for  companionship, 
were  the  little  boys  who  had  arrived  on  the  preceding  night : 
at  no  great  distance  from  these  was  seated  the  juvenile  son 
and  heir  of  Mr.  Squeers,  Wackford  by  name  —  a  striking 
likeness  of  his  father  —  kicking,  with  great  vigour,  under  the 

70 


DOTHEBOYS     HALL 

hands  of  Smike,  who  was  fitting  upon  him  a  pair  of  new 
boots  that  bore  a  most  suspicious  resemblance  to  those  which 
the  least  of  the  little  boys  had  worn  on  the  journey  down  — 
as  the  little  boy  himself  seemed  to  think,  for  he  was  regarding 
the  appropriation  with  a  look  of  rueful  amazement. 

"  Now,"  said  Squeers,  giving  the  desk  a  great  rap  with 
his  cane,  which  made  half  the  little  boys  nearly  jump  out 
of  their  boots,  "  is  that  physicking  over  ?  " 

"Just  over,"  said  Mrs.  Squeers,  choking  the  last  boy 
in  her  hurry,  and  tapping  the  crown  of  his  head  with  the 
spoon  to  restore  him.  "  Here,  you  Smike ;  take  away  now. 
Look  sharp  ! " 

Smike  shuffled  out  with  the  basin,  and  Mrs.  Squeers, 
hurried  out  after  him  into  a  wash-house  where  there  were 
a  number  of  little  wooden  bowls  which  were  arranged  upon 
a  board.  Into  these  bowls,  Mrs.  Squeers  poured  a  brown 
composition,  which  was  called  porridge.  A  minute  wedge  of 
brown  bread  was  inserted  in  each  bowl,  and  when  they  had 
eaten  their  porridge  by  means  of  it,  the  boys  ate  the  bread 
itself,  and  had  finished  their  breakfast ;  whereupon  Mr.  Squeers 
said  in  a  solemn  voice,  "  For  what  we  have  received,  may  the 
Lord  make  us  truly  thankful  ! "  —  and  went  away  to  his  own. 

After  eating  his  share  of  porridge,  and  having  further 
disposed  of  a  slice  of  bread  and  butter,  allotted  to  him  in 
virtue  of  his  office,  Nicholas  sat  himself  down,  to  wait  for 
school-time.  He  could  not  but  observe  how  silent  and  sad 
the  boys  seemed  to  be.  There  was  none  of  the  noise  and 
clamour  of  a  school-room ;  none  of  its  boisterous  play, 
or  hearty  mirth.  The  only  pupil  who  evinced  the  slight- 
est tendency  towards  locomotion  or  playfulness  was  Master 
Squeers,  and  as  his  chief  amusement  was  to  tread  upon  the 
other  boys'  toes  in  his  new  boots,  his  flow  of  spirits  was 
rather  disagreeable  than  otherwise. 

7i 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

After  some  half-hour's  delay,  Mr.  Squeers  reappeared, 
and  the  boys  took  their  places  and  their  books,  and  ranged 
themselves  in  front  of  the  schoolmaster's  desk. 

"This  is  the  class  in  English  spelling,  and  philosophy, 
Nickleby,"  said  Squeers,  beckoning  Nicholas  to  stand  beside 
him.  "We'll  get  up  a  Latin  one,  and  hand  that  over  to 
you.  Now,  then,  where 's  the  first  boy  ?  " 

"Please,  sir,  he's  cleaning  the  back  parlour  window," 
answered  one  of  the  class. 

"So  he  is,  to  be  sure,"  rejoined  Squeers.  "We  go  upon 
the  practical  mode  of  teaching,  Nickleby ;  the  regular  edu- 
cation system.  C-1-e-a-n,  clean,  verb  active,  to  make  bright, 
to  scour.  When  the  boy  knows  this  out  of  book,  he  goes 
and  does  it.  Where's  the  second  boy?" 

"  Please,  sir,  he 's  weeding  the  garden,"  replied  a  small 
voice. 

"To  be  sure,"  said  Squeers.  "So  he  is.  B-o-t,  bot,  t-i-n, 
tin,  n-e-y,  ney,  bottinney,  noun  substantive,  a  knowledge  of 
plants.  Third  boy,  what 's  a  horse  ?  " 

"  A  beast,  sir,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  So  it  is,"  said  Squeers.     "  Ain't  it,  Nickleby  ?  " 

"  I  believe  there  is  no  doubt  of  that,  sir,"  answered 
Nicholas. 

"  Of  course  there  is  n't,"  said  Squeers.  "  A  horse  is 
a  quadruped,  and  quadruped 's  Latin  for  beast,  as  every 
body  that's  gone  through  the  grammar  knows.  As  you're 
perfect  in  that,"  resumed  Squeers,  turning  to  the  boy,  "  go  and 
look  after  my  horse,  and  rub  him  down  well,  or  I'll  rub  you 
down.  The  rest  of  the  class  go  and  draw  water  up  till  some- 
body tells  you  to  leave  off,  for  it 's  washing  day  to-morrow." 

So  saying,  he  dismissed  the  class,  and  eyed  Nicholas  with 
a  look,  half  cunning  and  half  doubtful,  as  if  he  were  not  alto- 
gether certain  what  he  might  think  of  him  by  this  time. 

72 


DOTHEBOYS     HALL 

"  That 's  the  way  we  do  it,  Nickleby,"  he  said,  after  a  pause. 

Nicholas  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said  he  saw  it  was. 

"  And  a  very  good  way  it  is,  too,"  said  Squeers.  "  Now 
just  take  them  fourteen  little  boys  and  hear  them  some  read- 
ing, because,  you  know,  you  must  begin  to  be  useful." 

Mr.  Squeers  said  this  as  if  it  had  suddenly  occurred  to 
him,  either  that  he  must  not  say  too  much  to  his  assistant,  or 
that  his  assistant  did  not  say  enough  to  him  in  praise  of  the 
establishment.  The  children  were  arranged  in  a  semi-circle 
round  the  new  master,  and  he  was  soon  listening  to  their  dull, 
drawling,  hesitating  recital  of  stories  to  be  found  in  the  old 
spelling  books.  In  this  exciting  occupation  the  morning 
lagged  heavily  on.  At  one  o'clock,  the  boys  sat  down  in 
the  kitchen  to  some  hard  salt  beef.  After  this,  there  was 
another  hour  of  crouching  in  the  schoolroom  and  shivering 
with  cold,  and  then  school  began  again. 

It  was  Mr.  Squeers's  custom  to  call  the  boys  together,  and 
make  a  sort  of  report,  after  every  half-yearly  visit  to  the 
metropolis,  regarding  the  relations  and  friends  he  had  seen, 
the  news  he  had  heard,  the  letters  he  had  brought  down,  and 
so  forth.  This  solemn  proceeding  took  place  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  day  succeeding  his  return.  The  boys  were  recalled  from 
house- window,  garden  and  stable,  and  cow-yard,  when  Mr. 
Squeers  with  a  small  bundle  of  papers  in  his  hand,  and  Mrs. 
Squeers  following  with  a  pair  of  canes,  entered  the  room,  and 
proclaimed  silence. 

"  Let  any  boy  speak  without  leave,"  said  Mr.  Squeers 
mildly,  "  and  I  '11  take  the  skin  off  his  back." 

This  special  proclamation  had  the  desired  effect,  and  a 
death-like  silence  immediately  prevailed,  in  the  midst  of  which 
Mr.  Squeers  went  on  to  say : 

"  Boys,  I  Ve  been  to  London,  and  have  returned  as  strong 
and  well  as  ever." 

73 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

According  to  half-yearly  custom,  the  boys  gave  three  feeble 
cheers  at  this  refreshing  intelligence.  Such  cheers  !  Sighs  of 
extra  strength  with  the  chill  on. 

Squeers  then  proceeded  to  give  several  messages  of  various 
degrees  of  unpleasantness  to  sundry  of  the  boys,  followed  up 
by  vigorous  canings  where  he  had  any  grudge  to  pay  off.  One 
by  one  the  boys  answered  to  their  names. 

"  Now  let  us  see,"  said  Squeers.  "  A  letter  for  Cobbey. 
Stand  up,  Cobbey." 

Another  boy  stood  up  and  eyed  the  letter  very  hard,  while 
Squeers  made  a  mental  abstract  of  the  same. 

"  Oh,"  said  Squeers ;  "  Cobbey's  grandmother  is  dead, 
which  is  all  the  news  his  sister  sends,  except  eighteenpence, 
which  will  just  pay  for  that  broken  square  of  glass.  Mrs. 
Squeers,  my  dear,  will  you  take  the  money  ?  " 

The  worthy  lady  pocketed  the  eighteenpence  with  a  most 
business-like  air,  and  Squeers  passed  on  to  the  next  boy,  as 
coolly  as  possible. 

"  Mobbs's  step-mother,"  said  Squeers,  "  took  to  her  bed 
on  hearing  that  he  would  n't  eat  fat,  and  has  been  very  ill  ever 
since.  She  wishes  to  know,  by  an  early  post,  where  he  expects 
to  go  to  if  he  quarrels  with  his  vittles  ;  and  with  what  feelings 
he  could  turn  up  his  nose  at  the  cow's  liver  broth,  after  his 
good  master  had  asked  a  blessing  on  it.  This  was  told  her  in 
the  London  newspapers  —  not  by  Mr.  Squeers,  for  he  is  too 
kind  and  good  to  set  anybody  against  anybody  —  and  it  has 
vexed  her  so  much,  Mobbs  can't  think.  She  is  sorry  to  find 
he  is  discontented,  which  is  sinful  and  horrid,  and  hopes  Mr. 
Squeers  will  flog  him  into  a  happier  state  of  mind;  and  with 
this  view,  she  has  also  stopped  his  halfpenny  a  week  pocket- 
vioney,  and  given  a  double-bladed  knife  with  a  corkscrew  in  it 
to  the  Missionaries,  which  she  had  bought  on  purpose  for 
him." 

74 


DOTHEBOYS     HALL 

"  A  sulky  state  of  feeling,"  said  Squeers,  after  a  terrible 
pause.  "  Cheerfulness  and  contentment  must  be  kept  up. 
Mobbs,  come  to  me." 

Mobbs  moved  slowly  towards  the  desk,  rubbing  his  eyes 
in  anticipation  of  good  cause  for  doing  so ;  and  he  soon  after- 
wards retired  by  the  side  door,  with  as  good  a  cause  as  a  boy 
need  have. 

Mr.  Squeers  then  proceeded  to  open  a  miscellaneous  collec- 
tion of  letters  ;  some  enclosing  money,  which  Mrs.  Squeers 
"  took  care  of;  "  and  others  referring  to  small  articles  of  apparel, 
all  of  which  the  same  lady  stated  to  be  too  large,  or  too  small, 
and  calculated  for  nobody  but  young  Squeers,  who  would 
appear  indeed  to  have  had  most  accommodating  limbs,  since 
everything  that  came  into  the  school  fitted  him  to  a  nicety. 
His  head,  in  particular,  must  have  been  singularly  elastic,  for 
hats  and  caps  of  all  dimensions  were  alike  to  him. 

This  business  despatched,  a  few  slovenly  lessons  were  per- 
formed, and  Squeers  retired  to  his  fireside,  leaving  Nicholas  to 
take  care  of  the  boys  in  the  schoolroom.  There  was  a  small 
stove  at  that  corner  of  the  room  which  was  nearest  to  the 
master's  desk,  and  by  it  Nicholas  sat  down,  depressed  and 
degraded  by  the  consciousness  of  his  position.  But  for  the 
present  his  resolve  was  taken.  He  had  written  to  his  mother 
and  sister,  announcing  the  safe  conclusion  of  his  journey,  and 
saying  as  little  about  Dotheboys  Hall,  and  saying  that  little  as 
cheerfully,  as  he  could.  He  hoped  that  by  remaining  where 
he  was,  he  might  do  some  good,  even  there  ;  at  all  events, 
others  depended  too  much  on  him  to  admit  of  his  complaining 
just  then. 

From  the  moment  of  making  that  resolve,  Nicholas  got 
on  in  his  place  as  well  as  he  could,  doing  his  best  to  improve 
matters.  He  arranged  a  few  regular  lessons  for  the  boys,  and 
saw  that  they  were  well  attended ;  but  his  heart  sank  more  and 

75 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

more,  for  besides  the  dull,  unvarying  round  of  misery  there 
was  another  system  of  annoyance  which  nearly  drove  him  wild 
by  its  injustice  and  cruelty.  Upon  the  wretched  creature 
Smike,  all  the  spleen  and  ill-humour  that  could  not  be  vented 
on  Nicholas,  were  unceasingly  bestowed.  Drudgery  would 
have  been  nothing —  Smike  was  well  used  to  that.  Buffetings 
inflicted  without  cause  would  have  been  equally  a  matter  of 
course,  for  to  them  also  he  had  served  a  long  and  weary 
apprenticeship ;  but  it  was  no  sooner  observed  that  he  had 
become  attached  to  Nicholas,  than  stripes  and  blows,  morning, 
noon,  and  night,  were  his  only  portion.  Squeers  was  jealous 
of  the  influence  which  his  new  teacher  had  so  soon  acquired ; 
and  his  family  hated  him,  and  Smike  paid  for  both.  Nicholas 
saw  this,  and  ground  his  teeth  at  every  repetition  of  the  savage 
and  cowardly  attack. 

Not  many  weeks  later,  on  a  cold  January  morning,  when 
Nicholas  awoke  he  found  the  entire  school  agog  with  quiver- 
ing excitement.  Smike  had  run  away,  and  Squeers's  anger  was 
at  white  heat  against  him  and  every  one  else. 

"  He  is  off,"  said  Mrs.  Squeers,  angrily.  "  The  cow- 
house and  stable  are  locked  up,  so  he  can't  be  there ;  and 
he  *s  not  down  stairs  anywhere.  He  must  have  gone  York 
way,  and  by  a  public  road  too.  Then  of  course,"  continued 
Mrs.  Squeers,  "as  he  had  no  money  he  must  beg  his  way, 
and  he  could  do  that  nowhere,  but  on  the  public  road." 

"That's  true,"  exclaimed  Squeers,  clapping  his  hands. 

"True!  Yes;  but  you  would  never  have  thought  of  it, 
if  I  had  n't  said  so,"  replied  his  wife.  "  Now,  if  you  take 
the  cnaise  and  go  one  road,  and  I  borrow  Swallow's  chaise 
and  go  the  other,  one  or  other  of  us  is  pretty  certain  to  lay 
hold  of  him!" 

This  plan  was  adopted  and  put  in  execution  without  a 
moment's  delay. 

76 


DOTHEBOYS     HALL 

After  a  very  hasty  breakfast,  Squeers  started  forth  in  the 
pony-chaise,  intent  upon  discovery  and  vengeance.  Shortly 
afterwards,  Mrs.  Squeers  issued  forth  in  another  chaise  and 
another  direction,  taking  with  her  a  good-sized  bludgeon, 
several  odd  pieces  of  strong  cord,  and  a  stout  labouring 
man. 

Nicholas  remained  behind,  in  a  tumult  of  feeling,  sensible 
that  whatever  might  be  the  upshot  of  the  boy's  flight,  noth- 
ing but  painful  and  deplorable  consequences  were  likely  to 
ensue  from  it.  The  unhappy  being  had  established  a  hold 
upon  his  sympathy  and  compassion,  which  made  his  heart 
ache  at  the  prospect  of  the  suffering  he  was  destined  to 
undergo. 

The  next  evening  Squeers  returned  alone  and  unsuccessful. 
Another  day  came,  and  Nicholas  was  scarcely  awake  when 
he  heard  the  wheels  of  a  chaise  approaching  the  house.  It 
stopped.  The  voice  of  Mrs.  Squeers  was  heard  in  exultation. 
Nicholas  hardly  dared  to  look  out  of  the  window;  but  he 
did  so,  and  the  very  first  object  that  met  his  eyes  was  the 
wretched  Smike :  so  bedabbled  with  mud  and  rain,  so  haggard, 
and  worn,  and  wild,  that,  but  for  his  garments  being  such 
as  no  scarecrow  was  ever  seen  to  wear,  he  might  have  been 
doubtful,  even  then,  of  his  identity. 

"  Lift  him  out,"  said  Squeers,  after  he  had  literally  feasted 
his  eyes  upon  the  culprit.  "  Bring  him  in;  bring  him  in  !  " 

"  Take  care  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Squeers.  "  We  tied  his  legs 
under  the  apron  and  made  'em  fast  to  the  chaise,  to  prevent 
his  giving  us  the  slip  again." 

With  hands  trembling  with  delight,  Squeers  unloosened 
the  cord;  and  Smike,  more  dead  than  alive,  was  brought  into 
the  house  and  securely  locked  up  in  a  cellar. 

It  may  be  a  matter  of  surprise  to  some  persons  that  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Squeers  should  have  taken  so  much  trouble  to 

77 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

repossess  themselves  of  an  incumbrance  of  which  it  was 
their  wont  to  complain  so  loudly  ;  but  the  services  of  the 
drudge,  if  performed  by  any  one  else,  would  have  cost  some 
ten  or  twelve  shillings  per  week  in  the  shape  of  wages ;  and 
furthermore,  all  runaways  were,  as  a  matter  of  policy,  made 
severe  examples  of,  at  Dotheboys  Hall,  as  in  consequence  of 
the  limited  extent  of  its  attractions,  there  was  but  little  induce- 
ment, beyond  the  powerful  impulse  of  fear,  for  any  pupil,  pro- 
vided with  the  usual  number  of  legs  and  the  power  of  using 
them,  to  remain. 

The  news  that  Smike  had  been  caught  and  brought  back 
in  triumph,  ran  like  wild-fire  through  the  hungry  community, 
and  expectation  was  on  tiptoe  all  the  morning.  On  tiptoe 
it  was  destined  to  remain,  however,  until  afternoon ;  when 
Squeers  called  the  school  together,  and  dragged  Smike  by 
the  collar  to  the  front  of  the  room  before  them  all. 

"  Have  you  anything  to  say  ?  "  demanded  Squeers,  giving 
his  right  arm  two  or  three  flourishes  to  try  its  power  and 
suppleness.  "  Stand  a  little  out  of  the  way,  Mrs.  Squeers, 
my  dear ;  I  Ve  hardly  got  room  enough." 

"  Spare  me,  sir !  "  cried  Smike. 

"  Oh  !  that 's  all,  is  it? "  said  Squeers.  "  Yes,  I  '11  flog  you 
within  an  inch  of  your  life,  and  spare  you  that." 

"  I  was  driven  to  do  it,"  said  Smike  faintly ;  and  casting 
an  imploring  look  about  him. 

"  Driven  to  do  it,  were  you  ?  "  said  Squeers.  "  Oh  !  It 
was  n't  your  fault ;  it  was  mine,  I  suppose  —  eh  ? " 

Squeers  caught  the  boy  firmly  in  his  grip ;  one  desperate 
cut  had  fallen  on  his  body  —  he  was  wincing  from  the  lash 
and  uttering  a  scream  of  pain  —  it  was  raised  again,  and  again 
about  to  fall  —  when  Nicholas  Nickleby,  suddenly  starting  up, 
cried  "  Stop  !  "  in  a  voice  that  made  the  rafters  ring. 

"  Who  cried  stop  ? "  said  Squeers,  turning  savagely  round. 

78 


DOTHEBOYS     HALL 

"  I,"  said  Nicholas,  stepping  forward.  "  This  must  not  go 
on!" 

"  Must  not  go  on  ! "  cried  Squeers,  almost  in  a  shriek. 

"  No  !  "  thundered  Nicholas. 

Aghast  and  stupified  by  the  boldness  of  the  interference, 
Squeers  released  his  hold  of  Smike,  and,  falling  back  a  pace  or 
two,  gazed  upon  Nicholas  with  looks  that  were  positively 
frightful. 

"  I  say  must  not,"  repeated  Nicholas,  nothing  daunted  ; 
"  shall  not.  I  will  prevent  it." 

Squeers  continued  to  gaze  upon  him,  with  his  eyes  starting 
out  of  his  head ;  but  astonishment  had  actually,  for  the 
moment,  bereft  him  of  speech. 

"  You  have  disregarded  all  my  quiet  interference  in  the 
miserable  lad's  behalf,"  said  Nicholas;  "you  have  returned  no 
answer  to  the  letter  in  which  I  begged  forgiveness  for  him,  and 
offered  to  be  responsible  that  he  would  remain  quietly  here. 
Don't  blame  me  for  this  public  interference.  You  have 
brought  it  upon  yourself;  not  I." 

"  Sit  down,  beggar  !  "  screamed  Squeers,  almost  beside  him- 
self with  rage,  and  seizing  Smike  as  he  spoke. 

"  Wretch,"  rejoined  Nicholas,  fiercely,  "  touch  him  at  your 
peril  !  I  will  not  stand  by  and  see  it  done.  My  blood  is  up, 
and  I  have  the  strength  of  ten  such  men  as  you.  Look  to 
yourself,  for  by  Heaven  I  will  not  spare  you,  if  you  drive  me 
on!" 

"  Stand  back,"  cried  Squeers,  brandishing  his  weapon. 

"  I  have  a  long  series  of  insults  to  avenge,"  said  Nicholas, 
flushed  with  passion ;  "  and  my  indignation  is  aggravated 
by  the  dastardly  cruelties  practised  on  helpless  infancy  in 
this  foul  den.  Have  a  care ;  for  if  you  do  rouse  the  devil 
within  me,  the  consequences  shall  fall  heavily  upon  your  own 
head!" 

79 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

He  had  scarcely  spoken,  when  Squeers,  in  a  violent  out- 
break of  wrath,  and  with  a  cry  like  the  howl  of  a  wild  beast, 
struck  him  a  blow  across  the  face  with  his  instrument  of  torture, 
which  raised  up  a  bar  of  livid  flesh  as  it  was  inflicted.  Smart- 
ing with  the  agony  of  the  blow,  and  concentrating  into  that  one 
moment  all  his  feelings  of  rage,  scorn,  and  indignation,  Nicholas 
sprang  upon  him,  wrested  the  weapon  from  his  hand,  and 
pinning  him  by  the  throat,  beat  the  ruffian  till  he  roared  for 
mercy. 

Then  he  hastily  retired  from  the  fray,  leaving  Squeers's 
family  to  restore  him  as  best  they  might.  Seeking  his  room 
with  all  possible  haste,  Nicholas  considered  seriously  what 
course  of  action  was  best  for  him  to  adopt. 

After  a  brief  consideration,  he  packed  up  a  few  clothes  in  a 
small  leathern  valise,  and,  finding  that  nobody  offered  to 
oppose  his  progress,  marched  boldly  out  by  the  front  door,  and 
struck  into  the  road  which  led  to  Greta  Bridge. 

When  he  had  cooled,  sufficiently  to  be  enabled  to  give  his 
present  circumstances  some  little  reflection,  they  did  not  appear 
in  a  very  encouraging  light ;  he  had  only  four  shillings  and  a 
few  pence  in  his  pocket,  and  was  something  more  than  two 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  London,  whither  he  resolved  to 
direct  his  steps. 

He  lay,  that  night,  at  a  cottage  where  beds  were  let  at  a 
cheap  rate  to  the  more  humble  class  of  travellers  ;  and,  rising 
betimes  next  morning,  made  his  way  before  night  to  Borough- 
bridge.  Passing  through  that  town  in  search  of  some  cheap 
resting-place,  he  stumbled  upon  an  empty  barn  within  a  couple 
of  hundred  yards  of  the  road  side  ;  in  a  warm  corner  of  which 
he  stretched  his  weary  limbs,  and  soon  fell  asleep. 

When  he  awoke  next  morning,  and  tried  to  recollect  his 
dreams,  which  had  been  all  connected  with  his  recent  sojourn 
at  Dotheboys  Hall,  he  sat  up,  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  stared  — 

80 


DOTHEBOYS     HALL 

not  with  the  most  composed  countenance  possible  —  at  some 
motionless  object  which  seemed  to  be  stationed  within  a  few 
yards  in  front  of  him. 

"  Strange ! "  cried  Nicholas,  "  can  this  be  some  lingering 
creation  of  the  visions  that  have  scarcely  left  me  ?  It  cannot  be 
real  —  and  yet  I  —  I  am  awake  !  Smike  !  " 

The  form  moved,  rose,  advanced,  and  dropped  upon  its 
knees  at  his  feet.  It  was  Smike  indeed. 

"  Why  do  you  kneel  to  me  ?  "  said  Nicholas,  hastily  raising 
him. 

"  To  go  with  you  —  anywhere  —  everywhere  —  to  the 
world's  end  —  to  the  churchyard  grave,"  replied  Smike,  clinging 
to  his  hand.  "  Let  me,  oh,  do  let  me.  You  are  my  home  — 
my  kind  friend — take  me  with  you,  pray." 

I  am  a  friend  who  can  do  "  little  for  you,"  said  Nicholas, 
kindly.  "  How  came  you  here  ?  " 

He  had  followed  him,  it  seemed ;  had  never  lost  sight  of 
him  all  the  way  ;  had  watched  while  he  slept,  and  when  he 
halted  for  refreshment ;  and  had  feared  to  appear  before,  lest 
he  should  be  sent  back.  He  had  not  intended  to  appear  now, 
but  Nicholas  had  awakened  more  suddenly  than  he  looked  for, 
and  he  had  had  no  time  to  conceal  himself. 

"  Poor  fellow ! "  said  Nicholas,  "  your  hard  fate  denies 
you  any  friend  but  one,  and  he  is  nearly  as  poor  and  helpless 
as  yourself." 

"  May  I  —  may  I  go  with  you  ? "  asked  Smike  timidly. 
"  I  will  be  your  faithful  hard-working  servant,  I  will,  indeed. 
I  want  no  clothes,"  added  the  poor  creature,  drawing  his  rags 
together ;  "  these  will  do  very  well.  I  only  want  to  be  near 
you." 

"  And  you  shall ! "  cried  Nicholas.  "  The  world  shall  deal 
by  you  as  it  does  by  me,  till  one  or  both  of  us  shall  emit  it  for 
a  better.  Come  ! " 

6  81 


TEN    BOYS  from    C HAR L ES    D I C K EN S 

With  these  words,  he  strapped  his  burden  on  his  shoulders, 
and,  taking  his  stick  in  one  hand,  extended  the  other  to  his 
delighted  charge ;  and  so  they  passed  out  of  the  old  barn 
together,  out  from  the  nightmare  of  life  at  Dotheboys  Hall, 
into  the  busy  world  outside. 

•  ••••»• 

Some  years  later,  when  Mr.  Squeers  was  making  one  of 
his  customary  semi-annual  visits  to  London,  he  was  arrested 
and  sent  to  jail  by  persons  who  had  discovered  his  system 
of  fraud  and  cruelty,  as  well  as  the  fact  that  he  had  in  his 
possession  a  stolen  will.  Upon  John  Browdie,  a  burly  Scotch- 
man, devolved  the  duty  of  carrying  the  painful  news  to  Mrs. 
Squeers,  and  of  dismissing  the  school. 

So,  arriving  at  Dotheboys  Hall,  he  tied  his  horse  to  a  gate, 
and  made  his  way  to  the  schoolroom  door,  which  he  found 
locked  on  the  inside.  A  tremendous  noise  and  riot  arose 
from  within,  and,  applying  his  eye  to  a  convenient  crevice 
in  the  wall,  he  did  not  remain  long  in  ignorance  of  its 
meaning. 

The  news  of  Mr.  Squeers's  downfall  had  reached  Dothe- 
boys ;  that  was  quite  clear.  To  all  appearance,  it  had  very 
recently  become  known  to  the  young  gentlemen;  for  rebellion 
had  just  broken  out. 

It  was  one  of  the  brimstone-and- treacle  mornings,  and 
Mrs.  Squeers  had  entered  school  according  to  custom  with 
the  large  bowl  and  spoon,  followed  by  Miss  Squeers  and  the 
amiable  Wackford :  who,  during  his  father's  absence,  had 
taken  upon  himself  such  minor  branches  of  the  executive  as 
kicking  the  pupils  with  his  nailed  boots,  pulling  the  hair 
of  some  of  the  smaller  boys,  pinching  the  others  in  aggra- 
vating places,  and  rendering  himself  in  various  similar  ways 
a  great  comfort  and  happiness  to  his  mother.  Their  entrance, 
whether  by  premeditation  or  a  simultaneous  impulse,  was 

82 


DOTHEBOYS     HALL 

the  signal  of  revolt  for  the  boys.  While  one  detachment 
rushed  to  the  door  and  locked  it,  and  another  mounted  the 
desks  and  forms,  the  stoutest  (and  consequently  the  newest) 
boy  seized  the  cane,  and,  confronting  Mrs.  Squeers  with  a 
stern  countenance,  snatched  off  her  cap  and  beaver  bonnet, 
put  it  on  his  own  head,  armed  himself  with  the  wooden  spoon, 
and  bade  her,  on  pain  of  death,  go  down  upon  her  knees  and 
take  a  dose  directly.  Before  that  estimable  lady  could  recover 
herself,  or  offer  the  slightest  retaliation,  she  was  forced  into 
a  kneeling  posture  by  a  crowd  of  shouting  tormentors,  and 
compelled  to  swallow  a  spoonful  of  the  odious  mixture,  ren- 
dered more  than  usually  savoury  by  the  immersion  in  the  bowl 
of  Master  Wackford's  head,  whose  ducking  was  entrusted  to 
another  rebel.  The  success  of  this  first  achievement  prompted 
the  malicious  crowd,  whose  faces  were  clustered  together  in 
every  variety  of  lank  and  half-starved  ugliness,  to  further 
acts  of  outrage.  The  leader  was  insisting  upon  Mrs.  Squeers 
repeating  her  dose,  Master  Squeers  was  undergoing  another  dip 
in  the  treacle,  when  John  Browdie,  bursting  open  the  door 
with  a  vigorous  kick,  rushed  to  the  rescue.  The  shouts, 
screams,  groans,  hoots,  and  clapping  of  hands,  suddenly  ceased, 
and  a  dead  silence  ensued. 

"Ye  be  noice  chaps,"  said  John,  looking  steadily  round. 
"  What 's  to  do  here,  thou  yoong  dogs  ?  " 

"  Squeers  is  in  prison,  and  we  are  going  to  run  away  ! " 
cried  a  score  of  shrill  voices.  "  We  won't  stop,  we  won't 
stop  ! " 

"  Weel  then,  dinnot  stop,"  replied  John ;  "  who  waants 
thee  to  stop?  Roon  awa'  loike  men,  but  dinnot  hurt  the 
women. 

"  Hurrah !  "  cried  the  shrill  voices,  more  shrilly  still. 

"  Hurrah  ?  "  repeated  John.  "  Weel,  hurrah  loike  men 
too.  Noo  then,  look  out.  Hip  —  hip  —  hip  —  hurrah  !  " 

83 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

"  Hurrah  !  "  cried  the  voices. 

"  Hurrah  !    agean,"  said  John.     "  Looder  still." 

The  boys  obeyed. 

"  Anoother ! "  said  John.  "  Dinnot  be  afeared  on  it 
Let 's  have  a  good  un ! " 

"Hurrah!" 

"  Noo  then,"  said  John,  "  let 's  have  yan  more  to  end  wi', 
and  then  coot  off  as  quick  as  you  loike.  Tak'  a  good  breath 
noo  —  Squeers  be  in  jail  —  the  school 's  brokken  oop  —  it 's 
all  ower  —  past  and  gane  —  think  o'  thot,  and  let  it  be  a  hearty 
'un  !  Hurrah  !  " 

Such  a  cheer  arose  as  the  walls  of  Dotheboys  Hall  had 
never  echoed  before,  and  were  destined  never  to  respond  to 
again.  When  the  sound  had  died  away,  the  school  was 
empty ;  and  of  the  busy  noisy  crowd  which  had  peopled  it 
but  five  minutes  before,  not  one  remained. 

For  some  days  afterwards,  the  neighbouring  country  was 
overrun  with  boys,  who,  the  report  went,  had  been  secretly 
furnished  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browdie,  not  only  with  a  hearty 
meal  of  bread  and  meat,  but  with  sundry  shillings  and  six- 
pences to  help  them  on  their  way. 

There  were  a  few  timid  young  children,  who,  miserable 
as  they  had  been,  and  many  as  were  the  tears  they  had  shed 
in  the  wretched  school,  still  knew  no  other  home,  and  had 
formed  for  it  a  sort  of  attachment  which  made  them  weep 
when  the  bolder  spirits  fled,  and  cling  to  it  as  a  refuge.  Of 
these,  some  were  found  crying  under  hedges  and  in  such 
places,  frightened  at  the  solitude.  One  had  a  dead  bird 
in  a  little  cage;  he  had  wandered  nearly  twenty  miles,  and 
when  his  poor  favourite  died,  lost  courage,  and  lay  down 
beside  him.  Another  was  discovered  in  a  yard  hard  by  the 
school,  sleeping  with  a  dog,  who  bit  at  those  who  came  to 
remove  him,  and  licked  the  sleeping  child's  pale  face. 


DOTHEBOYS     HALL 

They  were  taken  back,  and  some  other  stragglers  were 
recovered,  but  by  degrees  they  were  all  claimed,  and,  in  course 
of  time,  Dotheboys  Hall  and  its  last  breaking  up  began  to 
be  forgotten  by  the  neighbours,  or  to  be  only  spoken  of 
as  among  things  that  had  been. 


DAVID   COPPERFIELD 


LITTLE  EM'LY  AND  DAVID  COPPERFIELD. 


DAVID  COPPERFIELD 


I 


first  things  that  assume  shape  and  form  in  the 
recollections  of  my  childhood  are  my  mother,  with 
her  pretty  hair  and  youthful  shape,  and  Peggotty, 
our  faithful  serving  maid,  with  no  shape  at  all,  and 
eyes  so  dark  that  they  seemed  to  darken  their  whole  neighbour- 
hood in  her  face,  and  cheeks  and  arms  so  hard  and  red  that  I 
wonder  the  birds  did  n't  peck  her  in  preference  to  apples. 

What  else  do  I  remember  ?  —  let  me  see.  There  comes  to 
me  a  vision  of  our  home,  Blunderstone  Rookery,  with  its 
ground-floor  kitchen,  and  long  passage  leading  from  it  to  the 
front  door.  A  dark  store-room  opens  out  of  the  kitchen,  and 
in  it  there  is  the  smell  of  soap,  pickles,  pepper,  candles,  and 
coffee,  all  at  one  whiff.  Then  there  are  the  two  parlours  ;  —  the 
one  in  which  we  sit  of  an  evening,  my  mother  and  I  and 
Peggotty,  —  for  Peggotty  is  quite  our  companion,  —  and  the 
best  parlour  where  we  sit  on  a  Sunday ;  grandly,  but  not  so 
comfortably,  while  my  mother  reads  the  old  familiar  Bible 
stories  to  us. 

And  now  I  see  the  outside  of  our  house,  with  the  latticed 
bedroom  windows,  and  the  ragged  old  rooks'  nests  dangling  in 
the  elm-trees.  I  see  the  garden  —  a  very  preserve  of  butterflies, 
where  the  pigeon  house  and  dog-kennel  are,  and  the  fruit  trees. 
A.nd  I  see  again  my  mother  winding  her  bright  curls  around 
her  fingers,  and  nobody  is  as  proud  of  her  beauty  as  I  am. 

One  night  when  Peggotty  and  I  had  been  sitting  cosily  by 
the  parlour  fire,  my  mother  came  home  from  spending  the 
evening  at  a  neighbour's,  and  with  her  was  a  gentleman  with 
beautiful  black  hair  and  whiskers.  As  my  mother  stooped  to 

89 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

kiss  me,  the  gentleman  said  I  was  a  more  highly  privileged 
little  fellow  than  a  monarch. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  "  I  asked  him.  He  smiled  and 
patted  me  on  the  head  in  reply,  but  somehow  I  did  n't  like 
him,  and  I  shrank  away,  jealous  that  his  hand  should  touch  my 
mother's  in  touching  me  —  although  my  mother's  gentle  chiding 
made  me  ashamed  of  the  involuntary  motion,  and  of  my 
dislike  for  this  new  friend  of  hers,  but  from  chance  words  which 
I  heard  Peggotty  utter,  I  knew  that  she  too  felt  as  I  did. 

From  that  time  the  gentleman  with  black  whiskers,  Mr. 
Murdstone  by  name,  was  at  our  house  constantly,  and  gradually 
I  became  used  to  seeing  him,  but  I  liked  him  no  better  than 
at  first.  The  sight  of  him  filled  me  with  a  fear  that  something 
was  going  to  happen,  and  time  proved  that  I  was  right  in  my 
apprehension.  One  night  when  my  mother,  as  usual,  was  out, 
Peggotty  asked  me, 

"  Master  Davy,  how  should  you  like  to  go  along  with  me 
and  spend  a  fortnight  at  my  brother's  at  Yarmouth  ?  Would  n't 
that  be  a  treat  ?  " 

"  Is  your  brother  an  agreeable  man,  Peggotty  ? "  I  inquired, 
provisionally. 

"  Oh  what  an  agreeable  man  he  is  !  "  cried  Peggotty,  holding 
up  her  hands.  "  Then  there  's  the  sea;  and  the  boats  ;  and  the 
fishermen  ;  and  the  beach  ;  and  'Am  to  play  with  —  " 

Peggotty  meant  her  nephew  Ham,  but  she  spoke  of  him  as 
a  morsel  of  English  Grammar. 

I  was  flushed  with  her  summary  of  delights,  and  replied 
that  it  would  indeed  be  a  treat,  but  what  would  my  mother  say  ? 

But  Peggotty  was  sure  that  I  would  be  allowed  to  go,  and 
so  it  proved.  My  mother  did  not  seem  nearly  so  much  sur- 
prised as  I  expected,  and  arranged  at  once  for  my  visit. 

The  day  soon  came  for  our  going.  I  was  in  a  fever  of 
expectation,  and  half  afraid  that  an  earthquake  might  stop  the 

90 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

expedition,  but  soon  after  breakfast  we  set  off,  in  a  carrier's  cart, 
and  the  carrier's  lazy  horse  shuffled  along,  carrying  us  towards 
Yarmouth.  We  had  a  fine  basket  of  refreshments,  and  we  ate 
a  good  deal,  and  slept  a  good  deal,  and  finally  arrived  in  Yar- 
mouth, where  at  the  public-house  we  found  Ham  waiting  for 
us.  He  was  a  huge,  strong  fellow  of  six  feet,  with  a  simpering 
boy's  face  and  curly  light  hair,  and  he  insisted  on  carrying  me 
on  his  back,  as  well  as  a  small  box  of  ours  under  his  arm. 
We  turned  down  lanes,  and  went  past  gas-works,  boat-builders' 
yards,  and  riggers'  lofts,  and  presently  Ham  said, 

"  Yon  's  our  house,  Mas'r  Davy !  " 

I  looked  over  the  wilderness,  and  away  at  the  sea,  and 
away  at  the  river,  but  no  house  could  /  make  out.  There  was 
a  black  barge  not  far  off,  high  and  dry  on  the  ground,  with  an 
iron  funnel  for  a  chimney,  and  smoking  very  cosily. 

"  That 's  not  it  ?  "  said  I.     "  That  ship-looking  thing  ?  " 

"That's  it,  Mas'r  Davy,"  returned  Ham. 

If  it  had  been  Aladdin's  palace,  I  could  not  have  been  more 
charmed  with  the  romantic  idea  of  living  in  it.  There  was  a 
delightful  door  cut  in  the  side,  and  it  was  roofed  in,  and  there 
were  little  windows  in  it.  It  was  beautifully  clean  inside  and  as 
tidy  as  possible.  There  was  a  table,  and  a  Dutch  clock,  and  a 
chest  of  drawers.  On  the  walls  were  some  coloured  pictures 
of  Biblical  subjects.  Abraham  in  red,  going  to  sacrifice  Isaac 
in  blue,  and  Daniel  in  yellow,  cast  into  a  den  of  green  lions, 
were  most  prominent.  Also,  there  was  a  mantel-shelf,  and 
some  lockers  and  boxes  which  served  for  seats.  Then  Peg- 
gotty  showed  me  the  completest  little  bedroom  ever  seen,  in 
the  stern  of  the  vessel,  with  a  tiny  bed,  a  little  looking-glass 
framed  in  oyster-shells,  and  a  nosegay  of  seaweed  in  a  blue 
mug  on  the  table.  The  walls  were  white-washed,  and  the 
patchwork  counterpane  made  my  eyes  quite  ache  with  its 
brightness. 

9' 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

When  I  took  out  my  pocket-handkerchief,  it  smelt  as  if  it 
had  wrapped  up  a  lobster.  When  I  confided  this  to  Peggotty, 
she  told  me  that  her  brother  dealt  in  lobsters,  crabs,  and  craw- 
fish, which  accounted  for  the  sea  smells  in  the  delightful  house. 

The  inmates  of  the  boat  were  its  master,  Mr.  Peggotty 
and  his  orphan  nephew  and  niece,  Ham  and  little  Em'ly,  which 
latter  was  a  beautiful  little  girl,  who  wore  a  necklace  of  blue 
beads.  There  was  also  Mrs.  Gummidge,  an  old  lady  who  sat 
continually  by  the  fire  and  knitted,  and  who  was  the  widow  of 
a  former  partner  of  Mr.  Peggotty's. 

With  little  Em'ly  I  at  once  fell  violently  in  love,  and  we 
used  to  walk  upon  the  beach  in  a  loving  manner,  hours  and 
hours.  I  am  sure  I  loved  that  baby  quite  as  truly  and 
with  more  purity  than  can  enter  into  the  best  love  of  a  later 
time  of  life ;  and  when  the  time  came  for  going  home,  our 
agony  of  mind  at  parting  was  intense. 

During  my  visit  I  had  been  completely  absorbed  in  my 
new  companions,  but  no  sooner  were  we  turned  homeward 
than  my  heart  began  to  throb  at  thought  of  again  seeing 
my  mother,  —  my  comforter  and  friend.  To  my  surprise, 
when  we  reached  the  dear  old  Rookery,  not  my  mother,  but  a 
strange  servant  opened  the  door. 

"  Why,  Peggotty,"  I  said,  ruefully,  "  is  n't  she  come 
home  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  Master  Davy,"  said  Peggotty,  "She's  come 
home.  Wait  a  bit,  Master  Davy,  and  I  '11  —  I  '11  tell  you 
something." 

Intensely  agitated,  Peggotty  led  me  into  the  kitchen  and 
closed  the  door,  then,  as  she  untied  her  bonnet  with  a  shaking 
hand,  she  said  breathlessly  ;  "  Master  Davy,  what  do  you 
,think?  You  have  got  a  Pa!" 

I  trembled  and  turned  white,  and  thought  of  my  father's 
grave  in  the  churchyard,  which  I  knew  so  well. 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

"  A  new  one,"  said  Peggotty. 

"  A  new  one  ?  "  I  repeated. 

Peggotty  gasped,  as  if  she  were  swallowing  something  very 
hard,  and,  putting  out  her  hand,  said, 

"  Come  and  see  him." 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  him." 

"  And  your  mama,"  said  Peggotty. 

I  ceased  to  draw  back,  and  we  went  straight  to  the  best 
parlour.  On  one  side  of  the  fire,  sat  my  mother;  on  the 
other,  Mr.  Murdstone.  My  mother  dropped  her  work,  and 
arose  hurriedly,  but  timidly,  I  thought. 

"  Now,  Clara,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Murdstone.  "  Recollect ! 
control  yourself!  Davy  boy,  how  do  you  do?  " 

I  gave  him  my  hand.  Then  I  went  over  to  my  mother. 
She  kissed  me,  patted  me  gently  on  the  shoulder,  and  sat 
down  again  to  her  work,  while  Mr.  Murdstone  watched  us 
both.  I  turned  to  look  out  of  the  window,  and  as  soon 
as  I  could,  I  crept  up-stairs.  My  old  dear  bedroom  was 
changed,  and  I  was  to  sleep  a  long  way  off,  and  there  on 
my  bed,  thinking  miserable  thoughts,  I  cried  myself  to  sleep. 
I  was  awakened  by  somebody  saying,  "  Here  he  is ! "  and 
there  beside  me  were  my  mother  and  Peggotty,  asking  what 
was  the  matter. 

I  answered,  "  Nothing,"  and  turned  over,  to  hide  my 
trembling  lip. 

"  Davy,"  said  my  mother.     "  Davy,  my  child ! " 

Then  when  she  would  have  caressed  me  in  the  old 
fashion,  Mr.  Murdstone  came  up  and  sent  the  others  away. 

"  David,"  he  said,  making  his  lips  thin,  by  pressing  them 
together,  "if  I  have  an  obstinate  horse  or  dog  to  deal  with, 
what  do  you  think  I  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  I  beat  him.     I   make  him  wince  and  smart.     I   say  to 

93 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES     DICKENS 

myself,  'I  '11  conquer  that  fellow;'  and  if  it  were  to  cost  him 
all  the  blood  he  had,  I  should  do  it.  What  is  that  upon  your 
face?" 

"  Dirt,"  I  said. 

He  knew  it  was  the  mark  of  tears  as  well  as  I.  But  if  he 
had  asked  the  question  twenty  times,  with  twenty  blows,  I 
believe  my  baby  heart  would  have  burst  before  I  would  have 
told  him  so. 

"  You  have  a  good  deal  of  intelligence  for  a  little  fellow," 
he  said,  "and  you  understood  me  very  well,  I  see.  Wash 
that  face,  sir,  and  come  down  with  me." 

He  pointed  to  the  washstand,  and  motioned  me  to  obey 
him  directly,  and  I  have  little  doubt  that  he  would  have 
knocked  me  down,  had  I  hesitated. 

As  he  walked  me  into  the  parlour,  he  said  to  my  mother, 
"  Clara,  my  dear,  you  will  not  be  made  uncomfortable  any  more, 
I  hope.  We  shall  soon  improve  our  youthful  humours." 

I  might  have  been  made  another  creature  for  life,  by  a  kind 
word  just  then.  A  word  of  welcome  home,  of  reassurance 
that  it  was  home,  might  have  made  me  dutiful  to  my  new 
father,  and  made  me  respect  instead  of  hate  him  ;  but  the 
word  was  not  spoken,  and  the  time  for  it  was  gone. 

After  that  my  life  was  a  lonely  one.  Mr.  Murdstone 
seemed  to  be  very  fond  of  my  mother,  and  she  of  him,  but 
also  she  seemed  to  stand  in  great  awe  of  him,  and  dared  not 
do  what  he  might  not  approve.  Soon  Miss  Murdstone  came 
to  live  with  us.  She  was  a  gloomy-looking  lady,  dark  like 
her  brother,  and  much  like  him  in  character.  She  assumed 
the  care  of  the  house,  and  mother  had  nothing  more  to  do 
with  it.  Meanwhile,  I  learnt  lessons  at  home. 

Shall  I  ever  forget  those  lessons !  They  were  presided 
over  nominally  by  my  mother,  but  really  by  Mr.  Murdstone 
and  his  sister,  who  were  always  present,  and  the  very  sight  of 

94 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

the  Murdstones  had  such  an  effect  upon  me,  that  every  word 
I  had  tried  to  learn  would  glide  away,  and  go  I  know  not 
where.  I  was  treated  to  so  much  systematic  cruelty  that, 
after  six  months,  I  became  sullen,  dull,  and  dogged,  and  this 
feeling  was  not  lessened  by  the  fact  that  I  was  more  and  more 
shut  out  from  my  mother.  I  believe  I  should  have  been 
almost  stupified  but  for  the  small  collection  of  books  which 
had  belonged  to  my  own  father,  and  to  which  I  had  access. 
From  that  blessed  little  room,  came  forth  "  Roderick  Ran- 
dom," "Peregrine  Pickle,"  "Tom  Jones,"  "The  Vicar  of 
Wakefield,"  "Robinson  Crusoe,"  "Gil  Bias,"  and  "Don 
Quixote,"  —  a  glorious  company  to  sustain  me.  They  kept 
alive  my  fancy,  and  my  hope  of  something  beyond  that  place 
and  time  —  they,  and  the  "Arabian  Nights"  and  "Tales  of 
the  Genii,"  —  and  were  my  only  comfort. 

One  morning,  when  I  went  into  the  parlour  with  my  books, 
I  found  Mr.  Murdstone  poising  a  cane  in  the  air,  which  he 
had  obtained,  it  seemed,  for  the  purpose  of  flogging  me 
for  any  mistake  I  might  make.  My  apprehension  was  so 
great,  that  the  words  of  my  lessons  slipped  off  by  the  entire 
page,  —  I  made  mistake  after  mistake,  failure  upon  failure,  — 
and  presently  Mr.  Murdstone  rose,  taking  up  the  cane,  and 
telling  me  to  follow  him.  As  he  took  me  out  at  the  door, 
my  mother  ran  towards  us.  Miss  Murdstone  said,  "  Clara ! 
are  you  a  perfect  fool  ? "  and  interfered.  I  saw  my  mother 
stop  her  ears  then,  and  I  heard  her  crying. 

Mr.  Murdstone  walked  me  up  to  my  room,  and  when  we 
got  there  suddenly  twisted  my  head  under  his  arm. 

"  Mr.  Murdstone  !  Sir ! "  I  cried,  "  Don't.  Pray  don't 
beat  me  !  I  have  tried  to  learn,  sir,  but  I  can't  learn  while 
you  and  Miss  Murdstone  are  by.  I  can't  indeed!" 

"  Can't  you,  indeed,  David  ?  "  he  said.  "  We  '11  try  that." 
He  had  my  head  as  in  a  vise,  but  I  twined  round  him  some- 

95 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

how,  and  stopped  him  for  a  moment,  entreating  him  again  not 
to  beat  me.  It  was  only  for  a  moment  though,  for  he  cut  me 
heavily  an  instant  afterwards,  and  in  the  same  instant  I  caught 
the  hand  with  which  he  held  me  in  my  mouth  and  bit  it 
through.  It  sets  my  teeth  on  edge  to  think  of  it. 

He  beat  me  then,  as  if  he  would  have  beaten  me  to  death. 
Above  all  the  noise  we  made,  I  heard  them  running  up  the 
stairs  and  crying  out  —  my  mother  and  Peggotty.  Then  he 
was  gone  ;  and  the  door  was  locked  outside ;  and  I  was  lying, 
fevered  and  hot,  and  torn,  and  sore,  and  raging  in  my  puny 
way,  upon  the  floor. 

How  well  I  recollect,  when  I  became  quiet,  what  an  un- 
natural stillness  seemed  to  reign  through  the  house  !  When  my 
passion  began  to  cool,  how  wicked  I  began  to  feel !  My  stripes 
were  sore  and  stiff,  and  made  me  cry  afresh  when  I  moved,  but 
they  were  nothing  to  the  guilt  I  felt.  It  lay  like  lead  upon 
my  breast.  For  five  days  I  was  imprisoned,  and  of  the  length 
of  those  days  I  can  convey  no  idea  to  any  one.  They  occupy 
the  place  of  years  in  my  remembrance.  On  the  fifth  night 
Peggotty  came  to  my  door  and  whispered  my  name  through 
the  keyhole. 

"  What  is  going  to  be  done  with  me,  Peggotty  dear  ? " 
I  asked. 

"  School.     Near  London,"  was  Peggotty's  answer. 

"  When,  Peggotty  ?  " 

"  To-morrow." 

"  Is  that  the  reason  why  Miss  Murdstone  took  the  clothes 
out  of  my  drawers  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Peggotty.     f  £  Box." 

"  Sha  n't  I  see  mama  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Peggotty.     "  Morning." 

Then  followed  some  assurances  of  affection,  which  Peg- 
gotty sobbed  through  the  keyhole,  and  from  that  night  I 

96 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

had  an  affection  for  her  greater  than  for  any  one,  except  my 
mother. 

In  the  morning  Miss  Murdstone  appeared  and  told  me 
what  I  already  knew,  and  said  that  I  was  to  come  down  into 
the  parlour,  and  have  my  breakfast.  My  mother  was  there, 
very  pale,  and  with  red  eyes,  into  whose  arms  I  ran,  and 
begged  her  pardon  from  my  suffering  soul. 

"  Oh,  Davy,"  she  said.  "  That  you  could  hurt  any  one  I 
love !  Try  to  be  better,  pray  to  be  better !  I  forgive  you,  but 
I  am  so  grieved,  Davy,  that  you  should  have  such  bad  passions 
in  your  heart !  " 

They  had  persuaded  her  that  I  was  a  wicked  fellow,  and 
she  was  more  sorry  for  that,  than  for  my  going  away.  I 
felt  it  sorely.  I  tried  to  eat,  but  tears  dropped  upon  my 
bread-and-butter,  and  trickled  into  my  tea,  and  I  could  not 
swallow. 

Presently  the  carrier  was  at  the  door,  my  box  was  in  the 
cart,  and  before  I  could  realise  it,  my  mother  was  holding  me 
in  a  farewell  embrace,  and  then  I  got  into  the  cart,  and  the 
lazy  horse  started  off. 

About  half  a  mile  away  from  home  the  carrier  stopped,  and 
Peggotty  burst  from  a  hedge  and  climbed  into  the  cart.  She 
squeezed  me  until  I  could  scarcely  speak,  and  crammed  some 
bags  of  cakes  into  my  pockets,  and  a  purse  into  my  hand,  but 
not  a  word  did  she  speak.  Then  with  a  final  hug,  she  climbed 
down  and  ran  away  again,  and  we  started  on  once  more. 

Having  by  this  time  cried  as  much  as  I  possibly  could,  I 
began  to  think  it  was  of  no  use  crying  any  more.  The  carrier 
agreed  with  me,  and  proposed  that  my  pocket  handkerchief 
should  be  spread  upon  the  horse's  back  to  dry,  to  which  I 
assented,  and  then  turned  my  attention  to  the  purse.  It  had 
three  bright  shillings  in  it,  which  Peggotty  had  evidently  pol- 
ished up  with  whitening,  —  but  more  precious  yet,  —  were 
7  97 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

two  half-crowns  in  a  bit  of  paper  on  which  my  mother  had 
written,  "  For  Davy.     With  my  love." 

I  was  so  overcome  by  this  that  I  asked  the  carrier  to  reach 
me  my  pocket  handkerchief  again,  but  he  thought  I  had 
better  do  without  it,  so  I  wiped  my  eyes  on  my  sleeve  and 
stopped  myself —  and  on  we  jogged. 

At  Yarmouth  we  drove  to  the  inn-yard,  where  I  dis- 
mounted, and  was  given  dinner,  after  which  I  mounted  the 
coach  for  London,  and  at  three  o'clock  we  started  off  on  a  trip 
which  was  not  unpleasant  to  me,  with  its  many  novel  sights 
and  experiences.  In  London,  at  an  inn  in  Whitechapel,  I  was 
met  by  a  Mr.  Mell,  one  of  the  teachers  at  Salem  House,  the 
school  to  which  I  was  going.  We  journeyed  on  together,  and 
by  the  next  day  were  at  Salem  House,  which  was  a  square 
brick  building  with  wings,  enclosed  with  a  high  brick  wall.  I 
was  astonished  at  the  perfect  quiet  there,  until  Mr.  Mell  told 
me  that  the  boys  were  at  their  homes  on  account  of  it  being 
holiday-time,  and  that  even  the  proprietor  was  away.  And  he 
added  that  I  was  sent  in  vacation  as  a  punishment  for  my 
misdoing. 

I  can  see  the  schoolroom  now,  into  which  he  took  me, 
with  its  long  rows  of  desks  and  forms,  and  bristling  all  round 
with  pegs  for  hats  and  states.  Scraps  of  old  copy-books  and 
exercises  littered  the  dirty  floor,  ink  had  been  splashed  every- 
where, and  the  air  of  the  place  was  indescribably  dreary.  My 
companion  left  me  there  alone  for  a  while,  and  as  I  roamed 
round,  I  came  upon  a  pasteboard  placard,  beautifully  written, 
lying  on  a  desk,  bearing  these  words,  "  I'ake  care  of  him.  He 
bites." 

I  got  upon  the  desk  immediately,  apprehensive  of  at  least 
a  great  dog  underneath,  but  I  could  see  nothing  of  him.  I 
was  still  peering  about,  when  Mr.  Mell  came  back,  and  asked 
what  I  did  up  there. 

98 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  I,  "  I  'm  looking  for  the 
dog." 

"  Dog,"  said  he,  "  What  dog  ? " 

"  The  one  that's  to  be  taken  care  of,  sir ;  that  bites." 

"  Copperfield,"  said  he,  gravely,  "  that 's  not  a  dog. 
That 's  a  boy.  My  instructions  are,  Copperfield,  to  put  this 
placard  on  your  back.  I  am  sorry  to  make  such  a  beginning 
with  you,  but  I  must  do  it." 

With  that  he  took  me  down,  and  tied  the  placard  on  my 
shoulders,  and  wherever  I  went  afterwards  I  carried  it.  What 
I  suffered  from  that  placard,  nobody  can  imagine.  I  always 
fancied  that  somebody  was  reading  it,  and  I  began  to  have 
a  dread  of  myself,  as  a  kind  of  wild  boy  who  did  bite.  Above 
and  beyond  all,  I  dreaded  the  coming  back  of  the  boys  and 
what  they  might  think  of  me,  and  my  days  and  nights  were 
filled  with  gloomy  forebodings.  In  a  month  Mr.  Creakle,  the 
proprietor  of  Salem  House  arrived.  He  was  stout,  with  a 
bald  head,  a  fiery  face,  small,  deep-set  eyes,  thick  veins  in  his 
forehead,  a  little  nose,  and  a  large  chin.  His  face  always 
looked  angry,  but  what  impressed  me  most  about  him  was 
that  he  spoke  always  in  a  whisper.  He  inquired  at  once 
about  my  behaviour,  and  seemed  disappointed  to  find  that 
there  was  nothing  against  me  so  far.  He  then  told  me  that  he 
knew  my  stepfather  as  a  man  of  strong  character,  and  that 
he  should  carry  out  his  wishes  concerning  me.  He  pinched 
my  ear  with  ferocious  playfulness,  and  I  was  very  much  fright- 
ened by  his  manner  and  words ;  but  before  I  was  ordered 
away,  I  ventured  to  ask  if  the  placard  might  not  be  removed. 
Whether  Mr.  Creakle  was  in  earnest,  or  only  meant  to  frighten 
me,  I  don't  know,  but  he  made  a  burst  out  of  his  chair,  before 
which  I  precipitately  retreated,  and  never  once  stopped  until  I 
reached  my  own  bedroom,  where,  finding  I  was  not  pursued, 
I  went  to  bed,  and  lay  quaking  for  a  couple  of  hours. 

99 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

The  next  day  the  other  masters  and  the  scholars  began  to 
arrive.  Jolly  Tommy  Traddles  was  the  first  boy  back,  and 
it  was  a  happy  circumstance  for  me.  He  enjoyed  my  placard 
so  much  that  he  saved  me  from  the  embarrassment  of  either 
disclosure  or  concealment,  by  presenting  me  to  the  other  boys 
in  this  way ;  "  Look  here  !  Here's  a  game !  "  Happily,  too, 
most  of  the  boys  came  back  low-spirited,  and  were  not  as 
boisterous  at  my  expense  as  I  expected.  Some  of  them  did 
dance  about  me  like  wild  Indians  and  pretended  I  was  a  dog, 
patting  me  and  saying,  "  Lie  down,  sir ! "  and  calling  me 
Towzer,  which  of  course  was  trying,  but,  on  the  whole,  much 
better  than  I  had  anticipated. 

I  was  not  considered  as  formally  received  into  the  school 
until  I  had  met  J.  Steerforth.  He  was  one  of  the  older 
scholars,  reputed  to  be  brilliant  and  clever,  and  quite  the  lion 
of  the  school.  He  inquired,  under  a  shed  in  the  playground, 
into  the  particulars  of  my  punishment,  and  said  it  was  "a  jolly 
shame,"  which  opinion  bound  me  to  him  ever  afterwards. 
Then  he  asked  me  what  money  I  had,  and  when  I  answered 
seven  shillings,  he  suggested  that  I  spend  a  couple  of  shillings 
or  so  in  a  bottle  of  currant  wine,  and  a  couple  or  so  in  almond 
cakes,  and  another  in  fruit,  and  another  in  biscuit,  for  a  little 
celebration  that  night  in  our  bedroom,  in  honour  of  my  arrival, 
and  of  course  I  said  I  should  be  glad  to  do  so.  I  was  a  little 
uneasy  about  wasting  my  mother's  half-crowns,  but  I  did  not 
dare  to  say  so,  and  Steerforth  procured  the  feast  and  laid  it 
out  on  my  bed,  saying,  "  There  you  are,  young  Copperfield, 
\nd  a  royal  spread  you  Ve  got." 

I  could  n't  think  of  doing  the  honours  of  the  feast,  and 
begged  him  to  preside.  So  he  sat  upon  my  pillow,  handing 
round  the  viands,  and  dispensing  the  wine.  As  to  me,  I  sat 
next  to  him,  and  the  rest  grouped  about  us  on  the  nearest  beds 
and  on  the  floor;  and  there  we  sat  in  the  dim  moonlight, 


too 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

talking  in  whispers,  while  I  heard  all  the  school  gossip,  about 
Mr.  Creakle  and  his  cruelty,  and  about  the  other  masters,  and 
that  the  only  boy  on  whom  Mr.  Creakle  never  dared  to  lay 
a  hand  was  Steerforth.  All  this  and  much  more  I  heard 
before  we  at  last  betook  ourselves  to  bed. 

The  next  day  school  began  in  earnest,  and  so  far  as  the 
boys  were  concerned,  Steerforth  continued  his  protection  of 
me,  and  was  always  a  very  firm  and  useful  friend,  as  no  one 
dared  annoy  any  one  whom  he  liked. 

One  night  he  discovered  that  my  head  was  filled  with 
stories  of  my  favourite  heroes,  which  I  could  relate  with 
some  measure  of  graphic  talent,  and  after  that  I  was  obliged 
to  reel  off  stories  by  the  yard,  making  myself  into  a  regular 
Sultana  Scheherezade  for  his  benefit.  I  was  much  flattered  by 
his  interest  in  my  tales,  and  the  only  drawback  to  telling 
them  was  that  I  was  often  very  sleepy  at  night,  and  it  was 
sometimes  very  hard  work  to  be  roused  and  forced  into 
a  long  recital  before  the  rising  bell  rang,  but  Steerforth  was 
resolute,  and  as  in  return  he  explained  sums  and  exercises 
to  me,  I  was  no  loser  by  the  transaction.  Also,  I  honestly 
admired  and  loved  the  handsome  fellow,  and  desired  to  please 
him. 

And  so  from  week  to  week  the  story-telling  in  the  dark 
went  on,  and  whatever  I  had  within  me  that  was  romantic  or 
dreamy  was  encouraged  by  it  By  degrees  the  other  boys 
joined  the  circle  of  listeners.  Traddles  was  always  overcome 
with  mirth  at  the  comic  parts  of  the  stories.  He  used  to  pre- 
tend that  he  could  n't  keep  his  teeth  from  chattering  when 
an  Alguazil  was  mentioned  in  connection  with  the  adventures 
of  Gil  Bias,  and  I  remember  when  Gil  Bias  met  the  captain  of 
the  robbers  in  Madrid,  Traddles  counterfeited  such  an  ague 
of  terror,  that  Mr.  Creakle  who  was  prowling  about  the  pas- 
sage, overheard  him,  and  flogged  him  for  disorderly  conduct. 

101 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

There  was  little  of  especial  moment  in  my  first  half-term 
at  Salem  House,  except  the  quarrel  which  took  place  between 
Steerforth  and  Mr.  Mell ;  and  an  unexpected  visit  from  Ham 
and  Mr.  Peggotty  when  I  had  the  delight  of  introducing  those 
rollicking  fellows  to  Steerforth,  whose  bright,  easy  manner 
charmed  them,  as  it  did  most  persons. 

The  rest  of  the  half-year  is  a  jumble  in  my  recollection ; 
and  then  came  the  holidays,  which  were  spent  at  home.  I 
found  my  mother  as  tender  as  of  old.  She  hugged  me  and 
kissed  me,  and  on  that  first  blessed  night,  as  Mr.  and  Miss 
Murdstone  were  away  on  a  visit,  mother  and  Peggotty  and 
I  dined  together  by  the  fireside  in  the  old  fashion.  My 
mother  spoke  of  herself  as  a  weak,  ignorant  young  thing 
whom  the  Murdstones  were  endeavouring  to  make  as  strong  in 
character  as  themselves.  Then  we  talked  about  Salem  House 
and  my  experiences  and  friends  there,  and  were  very  happy. 
That  evening  as  the  last  of  its  race  will  never  pass  out  of  my 
memory.  I  was  at  home  for  a  month,  but  after  that  first  night 
I  felt  in  the  way,  for  the  Murdstones  were  always  with  my 
mother.  On  the  evening  after  my  return  I  made  a  very 
humble  apology  to  Mr.  Murdstone,  which  he  received  with 
cold  dignity.  I  tried  to  spend  my  evenings  in  the  kitchen 
with  Peggotty,  but  of  this  Mr.  Murdstone  did  not  approve,  so 
I  sat  wearily  in  the  parlour,  waiting  for  the  hours  to  wear 
themselves  away.  What  .valks  I  took  alone  !  What  meals  I 
had  in  silence  and  embarrassment !  What  dull  evenings,  por- 
ing over  tables  of  weights  and  measures,  and  what  yawns  and 
dozes  I  lapsed  into  in  spite  of  all  my  care  !  Thus  the  holidays 
lagged  away,  until  the  morning  came  when  Miss  Murdstone 
gave  me  the  closing  cup  of  tea  of  the  vacation.  I  was  not 
sorry  to  go.  I  had  lapsed  into  a  stupid  state ;  but  I  was  re- 
covering a  little  and  looking  foward  to  Steerforth.  I  kissed 
my  mother,  and  had  climbed  into  the  carrier's  cart  when  I 

102 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

heard  her  calling  me.  I  looked  back,  and  she  stood  at  the 
garden-gate,  looking  intently  at  me. 

So  I  lost  her.  So  I  saw  her  afterwards,  in  my  sleep  at 
school,  —  a  silent  presence  near  my  bed  —  looking  at  me  with 
the  same  intent  face,  —  and  the  vision  is  still  a  constant  bless- 
ing to  me. 

From  then  I  pass  over  all  that  happened  at  Salem  House 
until  my  birthday  in  March.  On  the  morning  of  that  day  I 
was  summoned  into  Mr.  Creakle's  august  presence.  Mrs. 
Creakle  was  in  the  room  too,  and  somehow  they  broke  it  to 
me  that  my  mother  was  very  ill.  I  knew  all  now ! 

tf  She  is  dead,"  they  said. 

There  was  no  need  to  tell  me  so.  I  had  already  broken 
out  into  a  desolate  cry,  and  felt  an  orphan  in  the  wide  world. 
If  ever  child  were  stricken  with  sincere  grief,  I  was.  But  I 
remember  even  so,  that  my  sorrow  was  a  kind  of  satisfaction  to 
me,  when  I  walked  in  the  playground,  while  the  boys  were  in 
school,  and  saw  them  glancing  at  me  out  of  the  windows,  and 
because  of  my  grief  I  felt  distinguished,  and  of  vast  import- 
ance. We  had  no  story-telling  that  night,  and  Traddles  in- 
sisted on  lending  me  his  pillow  as  a  guarantee  of  his  sympathy, 
which  I  understood  and  accepted. 

I  left  Salem  House  upon  noon  the  next  day,  stopping  in 
Yarmouth  to  be  measured  for  my  suit  of  black.  Then  all 
too  soon  I  was  at  home  again,  only  it  was  home  no  longer, 
for  my  mother  was  not  there.  Mr.  Murdstone,  who  was 
weeping,  took  no  notice  of  me.  Miss  Murdstone  gave  me 
her  cold  fingers,  and  asked  if  I  had  been  measured  for  my 
mourning,  and  if  I  had  brought  home  my  shirts.  There  was 
no  sign  that  they  thought  of  my  suffering,  and — alone  — 
except  for  dear  faithful  Peggotty,  I  remained  there,  mother- 
less, and  worse  than  fatherless,  still  stunned  and  giddy  with 
the  shock.  As  soon  as  the  funeral  was  over,  Peggotty  obtained 

103 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

permission  to  take  me  home  with  her  for  a  visit,  and  I  was 
thankful  for  the  change,  even  though  I  knew  that  Peggotty 
was  leaving  the  Rookery  forever. 

We  found  the  old  boat  the  same  pleasant  place  as  ever, 
only  little  Em'ly  and  I  seldom  wandered  on  the  beach  now. 
She  had  tasks  to  learn,  and  needlework  to  do.  During  the 
visit  I  had  a  great  surprise,  which  was  no  less  than  Peggotty's 
marriage  to  the  carrier  who  had  taken  me  on  so  many  trips, 
and  whose  affections  it  seemed,  had  long  been  fastened  upon 
Peggotty.  He  took  her  to  a  nice  little  home,  and  there  she 
showed  me  a  room  which  she  said  would  be  mine  whenever 
I  chose  to  occupy  it.  I  felt  the  constancy  of  my  dear  old 
nurse,  and  thanked  her  as  well  as  I  could,  but  the  next  day  I 
was  obliged  to  go  back  to  the  Murdstones.  Peggotty  made 
the  journey  with  me,  and  no  words  can  express  my  forlorn 
and  desolate  feelings  when  the  cart  took  her  away  again,  and  I 
was  left  alone  in  the  place  where  I  used  to  be  so  happy. 

And  now  I  fell  into  a  state  of  neglect,  apart  from  other 
boys  of  my  own  age,  and  apart  from  all  friendly  faces.  What 
would  I  not  have  given  to  have  been  sent  to  school !  I 
think  Mr.  Murdstone's  means  were  straightened  at  that  time, 
and  there  was  no  mention  of  Salem  House  or  of  any  other 
school.  I  was  not  beaten  or  starved,  only  coldly  neglected. 
Peggotty  I  was  seldom  allowed  to  visit,  but  once  a  week  she 
either  came  to  see  me  or  met  me  somewhere,  and  that,  and 
the  dear  old  books  were  my  only  comfort. 

One  day  Mr.  Quinion,  a  visitor  at  the  house,  took  pains  to 
ask  me  some  questions  about  myself,  and  afterwards  Mr. 
Murdstone  called  me  to  him,  and  said  : 

"  I  suppose  you  know,  David,  that  I  am  not  rich.  You 
have  received  some  considerable  education  already.  Education 
is  costly ;  and  even  if  I  could  afford  it,  I  am  of  opinion  that 
it  would  not  be  at  all  advantageous  to  you  to  be  kept  at 

104 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

a  school.  There  is  before  you  a  fight  with  the  world  ;  and 
the  sooner  you  begin  it  the  better.  You  may  have  heard  of 
the  counting  house  of  Murdstone  and  Grinby,  in  the  wine 
trade  ?  Mr.  Quinion  manages  the  business,  and  he  suggests 
that  it  gives  employment  to  some  other  boys,  and  that  he 
sees  no  reason  why  it  should  n't  give  employment  to  you. 
You  will  earn  enough  to  provide  for  your  eating,  and  drink- 
ing, and  pocket  money.  Your  lodging  will  be  paid  by 
me.  So  will  your  washing.  Your  clothes  will  be  looked  after 
for  you,  too,"  said  Mr.  Murdstone,  "  as  you  will  not  be  able, 
yet  awhile,  to  get  them  for  yourself.  So  you  are  now 
going  to  London,  David,  to  begin  the  world  on  your  own 
account." 

Behold  me,  on  the  morrow,  in  a  much-worn  little  white  hat, 
with  a  crape  band  round  it,  a  black  jacket,  and  stiff  corduroy 
trousers  !  Behold  me  so  attired,  and  with  my  little  worldly 
all  in  a  small  trunk,  sitting,  a  lone,  lorn  child,  in  the  post-chaise, 
journeying  to  London  with  Mr.  Quinion !  Behold  me  at 
ten  years  old,  a  little  labouring  hind  in  Murdstone  and  Grinby's 
warehouse  on  the  waterside  at  Blackfriars  !  It  was  a  crazy  old 
house  with  a  wharf  of  its  own,  but  rotting  with  dirt  and  age. 
Their  trade  was  among  many  kinds  of  people,  chiefly  supply- 
ing wines  and  spirits  to  certain  packet  ships.  My  work  was 
pasting  labels  on  full  bottles,  or  fitting  corks  to  them,  or  seal- 
ing the  corks,  and  the  work  was  not  half  so  distasteful  as  were 
my  companions,  far  below  me  in  birth  and  education.  The 
oldest  of  the  regular  boys  was  named  Mick  Walker,  and 
another  boy  in  my  department,  on  account  of  his  complexion, 
was  called  Mealy  Potatoes.  No  words  can  express  the  secret 
agony  of  my  soul  as  I  sunk  into  this  companionship,  and 
thought  sadly  of  Traddles,  Steerforth,  and  those  other  boys, 
whom  I  felt  sure  would  grow  up  to  be  great  men. 

I  lodged  with  a  Mr.  Micawber  who  lived  in  Windsor 

105 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

Terrace.  My  pay  at  the  warehouse  was  six  shillings  a  week. 
I  provided  my  own  breakfast  and  kept  bread  and  cheese  to 
eat  at  night.  Also,  child  that  I  was,  —  sometimes  I  could  not 
resist  pastry  cakes  and  puddings  in  the  shop  windows,  all  of 
which  made  a  large  hole  in  my  six  shillings.  From  Mon- 
day to  Saturday  I  had  no  advice,  no  encouragement  or  help  of 
any  kind.  I  worked  with  common  men  and  boys,  a  shabby 
child.  I  lounged  about  the  streets,  insufficiently  and  unsatis- 
factorily fed.  But  for  the  mercy  of  God,  I  might  easily  have 
been,  for  any  care  that  was  taken  of  me,  a  little  robber  or  a 
little  vagabond.  Yet  they  were  kind  to  me  at  the  warehouse 
and  that  I  suffered  and  was  miserably  unhappy,  no  one 
noticed.  I  concealed  the  fact  even  from  Peggotty  (partly  for 
love  of  her,  and  partly  for  shame). 

I  did  my  work  not  unskilfully,  and  though  perfectly  famil- 
iar with  my  companions,  my  conduct  and  manner  placed  a 
space  between  us  and  I  was  usually  spoken  of  as  the  "  little 
Gent."  In  my  desolate  condition,  I  became  really  attached  to 
the  Micawbers,  and  when  they  experienced  reverses  of  fortune, 
and  Mr.  Micawber  was  carried  off  to  the  Debtors'  Prison,  I 
did  all  that  I  could  for  them,  and  remained  with  Mrs.  Micaw- 
ber in  lodgings  near  the  prison.  But  I  plainly  saw  that  a 
parting  was  near  at  hand,  as  it  was  the  Micawbers'  intention  to 
leave  London  as  soon  as  Mr.  Micawber  could  free  himself. 
So  keen  was  my  dread  of  lodging  with  new  people,  added  to 
the  misery  of  my  daily  life  at  the  warehouse,  that  I  could  not 
endure  the  thought,  and  finally  I  made  a  resolution.  I  would 
run  away  ! 

Many  times  in  the  old  days,  my  mother  had  told  me  the 
story  of  my  one  relative,  Aunt  Betsey,  who  had  been  present 
at  the  time  of  my  birth,  confident  in  her  hopes  of  a  niece  who 
should  be  named  for  her,  Betsey  Trotwood,  and  for  whom  she 
proposed  to  provide  liberally.  When  I,  David  Copperfield, 

1 06 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

came  in  place  of  the  longed-for  niece,  Aunt  Betsey  shook  the 
dust  of  the  place  off  her  feet,  and  my  mother  never  saw  her 
afterwards.  My  idea  now  was  to  find  Aunt  Betsey.  Not  know- 
ing where  she  lived,  I  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Peggotty,  and  asked 
in  it  incidentally  if  she  knew  the  address,  and  also  if  she  could 
lend  me  half  a  guinea  for  a  short  time.  She  answered  promptly 
and  enclosed  the  half  guinea,  saying  that  Miss  Betsey  lived  just 
outside  of  Dover,  which  place  I  at  once  resolved  to  set  out  for. 
However,  I  considered  myself  bound  to  remain  at  the  ware- 
house until  Saturday  night ;  and  as  when  I  first  came  there 
I  had  been  paid  for  a  week  in  advance,  not  to  present  myself 
as  usual  to  receive  my  wages.  For  this  reason  I  had  borrowed 
the  half  guinea,  that  I  might  have  a  fund  for  my  travelling 
expenses. 

Accordingly,  when  Saturday  night  came,  I  shook  Mick 
Walker's  hand,  bade  good-night  to  Mealy  Potatoes  —  and  ran 
away. 

My  box  was  at  my  old  lodging,  and  I  had  a  card  ready 
for  it,  addressed  to  "  Master  David,  to  be  left  till  called  for  at 
the  Coach  Office,  Dover." 

I  found  a  young  man  with  a  donkey-cart  whom  I  engaged  for 
sixpence,  to  remove  my  box,  and  in  pulling  the  card  for  it  out  of 
my  pocket,  I  tumbled  my  half  guinea  out  too.  I  put  it  in  my 
mouth  for  safety,  and  had  just  tied  the  card  on,  when  I  felt 
myself  violently  chucked  under  the  chin  by  the  young  man,  and 
saw  my  half  guinea  fly  out  of  my  mouth  into  his  hand. 

"  You  give  me  my  money  back,  if  you  please,"  said  I, 
very  much  frightened.  "  And  leave  me  alone  !  " 

"  Come  to  the  pollis,"  said  he  ;  "  you  shall  prove  it  yourn 
to  the  pollis  !  " 

"  Give  me  my  box  and  money,  will  you  ? "  I  cried, 
bursting  into  tears. 

The   young  man   still   replied,   "Come   to   the   pollis!' 

107 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

Then  suddenly  changed  his  mind,  jumped  into  the  cart,  sat 
upon  my  box,  and  exclaiming  that  he  would  drive  to  the  pollis 
straight,  rattled  away. 

I  ran  after  him  as  fast  as  I  could,  narrowly  escaping  being 
run  over  some  twenty  times  in  a  mile,  until  I  had  no  breath 
left  to  call  out  with.  Now  I  lost  him,  now  I  saw  him,  but 
at  length,  confused  and  exhausted,  I  left  him  to  go  where  he 
would  with  my  box  and  money,  and,  panting  and  crying,  but 
never  stopping,  I  faced  about  for  Greenwich,  and  had  some 
wild  idea  of  running  straight  to  Dover.  However,  my  scat- 
tered senses  were  soon  collected  and  I  sat  down  on  a  doorstep, 
quite  spent.  Fortunately,  it  was  a  fine  summer  night,  and 
when  I  had  recovered  my  breath,  I  went  on  again.  But  I  had 
only  three-halfpence  in  the  world,  and  as  I  trudged  on,  I  pic- 
tured to  myself  how  I  should  be  found  dead  in  a  day  or  two, 
under  some  hedge.  Passing  a  little  pawnshop,  I  left  my 
waistcoat,  and  went  on,  richer  by  ninepence,  and  I  foresaw  that 
my  jacket  would  go  next,  in  fact  that  I  should  be  lucky  if  I 
got  to  Dover  in  a  shirt  and  a  pair  of  trousers. 

It  had  occurred  to  me  to  go  on  as  fast  as  I  could  towards 
Salem  House,  and  spend  the  night  behind  the  wall  at  the  back 
of  my  old  school,  where  there  used  to  be  a  haystack.  I  imag- 
ined it  would  be  a  kind  of  company  to  have  the  boys  and 
the  bedroom  where  I  used  to  tell  the  stories,  so  near  me.  I 
had  a  hard  day's  walk,  and  with  great  trouble  found  Salem 
House,  and  the  haystack,  and  lay  down  outside  the  dark  and 
silent  house.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  lonely  sensation  of 
first  lying  down,  without  a  roof  above  my  head !  But  at 
last  I  slept,  and  dreamed  of  old  school-days,  until  the  warm 
beams  of  the  sun,  and  the  rising  bell  at  Salem  House  awoke 
me.  As  none  of  my  old  companions  could  still  be  there, 
I  had  no  wish  to  linger,  so  I  crept  away  from  the  wall  and 
struck  out  into  the  dusty  Dover  road. 

108 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

That  day  I  got  through  three  and  twenty  miles,  and  at 
night  I  passed  over  the  bridge  at  Rochester,  footsore  and 
tired,  eating  bread  as  I  walked.  There  were  plenty  of 
signs,  "  Lodgings  for  Travellers,"  but  I  sought  no  shelter, 
fearing  to  spend  the  few  pence  I  had.  Very  stiff  and  sore 
of  foot  I  was  in  the  morning,  and  I  felt  that  I  could  go 
only  a  short  distance  that  day.  I  took  off  my  jacket,  and 
went  into  a  shop,  where  I  exchanged  it  finally  for  one  and 
fourpence.  For  threepence  I  refreshed  myself  completely, 
and  limped  seven  miles  further.  I  slept  under  another  hay- 
stack, after  washing  my  blistered  feet  in  a  stream,  and  went 
on  in  rather  better  spirits,  coming  at  last  to  the  bare  wide 
downs  near  Dover.  I  then  began  to  inquire  of  everyone  I  met, 
about  my  aunt,  but  no  one  knew  her,  and  finally,  when  the 
morning  was  far  spent,  in  despair  I  went  into  a  little  shop 
to  ask  once  more.  I  spoke  to  the  clerk,  but  a  young  woman 
on  whom  he  was  waiting,  took  the  inquiry  to  herself. 

"My  mistress  ?  "  she  said.  "  What  do  you  want  with  her, 
boy  ?  " 

On  my  replying  that  I  wished  to  see  Miss  Trotwood,  the 
young  woman  told  me  to  follow  her.  I  needed  no  second  per- 
mission, though  by  this  time  my  legs  shook  under  me.  Soon 
we  came  to  a  neat  little  cottage  with  cheerful  bow-windows,  in 
front  of  it  a  gravelled  court,  full  of  flowers. 

"  This  is  Miss  Trotwood's,"  said  the  young  woman,  and 
then  she  hurried  in,  and  left  me  standing  at  the  gate.  My 
shoes  were  by  this  time  in  a  woeful  condition,  my  hat  was 
crushed  and  bent,  my  shirt  and  trousers  stained  and  torn, 
my  hair  had  known  no  comb  or  brush  since  I  left  London, 
my  face,  neck,  and  hands,  from  unaccustomed  exposure,  were 
burnt  to  a  berry-brown.  From  head  to  foot  I  was  powdered 
with  dust.  In  this  plight  I  waited  to  introduce  myself  to 
my  formidable  aunt. 

109 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES     DICKENS 

As  I  waited,  there  came  out  of  the  house  a  lady  with  a 
handkerchief  tied  over  her  cap,  a  pair  of  gardening  gloves 
on  her  hands,  and  carrying  a  great  knife.  I  knew  her  im- 
mediately, for  she  stalked  out  of  the  house  exactly  as  my 
mother  had  so  often  described  her  stalking  up  our  garden 
at  home. 

"  Go  away  ! "  said  Miss  Betsey,  shaking  her  head,  and 
waving  her  knife.  "  Go  along  !  No  boys  here  !  " 

I  watched  her,  with  my  heart  at  my  lips,  as  she  stopped 
to  dig  up  a  root.  Then  I  went  up  and  touched  her. 

"If  you  please,  ma'am,"  I  began. 

She  started,  and  looked  up. 

"  If  you   please,  aunt." 

"  EH  ? "  exclaimed  Miss  Betsey,  in  a  tone  of  amazement 
I  have  never  heard  approached. 

"  If  you   please,   aunt,   I   am  your  nephew." 

"  Oh,  Lord ! "  said  my  aunt.  And  sat  down  flat  in  the 
garden-path. 

"  I  am  David  Copperfield,  of  Blunderstone,  in  Suffolk  — 
where  you  came,  on  the  night  when  I  was  born,  and  saw 
my  dear  mama.  I  have  been  very  unhappy  since  she  died. 
I  have  been  slighted  and  taught  nothing,  and  thrown  upon 
myself,  and  put  to  work  not  fit  for  me.  It  made  me  run  away 
to  you.  I  was  robbed  at  first  setting  out,  and  have  walked  all 
the  way,  and  have  never  slept  in  a  bed  since  I  began  the 
journey."  Here  my  self-support  gave  way  all  at  once,  and  I 
broke  into  a  passion  of  crying. 

My  aunt  sat  on  the  gravel,  staring  at  me,  until  I  began 
to  cry,  when  she  got  up  in  a  great  hurry,  collared  me,  and 
took  me  into  the  parlour.  Her  first  proceeding  there  was  to 
unlock  a  tall  press,  bring  out  several  bottles,  and  pour  some 
of  the  contents  of  each  into  my  mouth.  I  think  they  must 
have  been  taken  out  at  random,  for  I  am  sure  I  tasted  ani- 

IIO 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

seed  water,  anchovy  sauce,  and  salad  dressing.  Then  she  put 
me  on  a  sofa  with  a  shawl  under  my  head,  and  a  handkerchief 
under  my  feet,  lest  I  should  soil  the  cover,  and  then,  sitting 
down  so  I  could  not  see  her  face,  she  ejaculated  "  Mercy  on 
us  !  "  at  regular  intervals. 

After  a  time  she  rang  a  bell,  and  a  grey-headed,  florid  old 
gentleman,  called  Mr.  Dick,  who  had  the  appearance  of  a 
grown-up  boy,  and  who  lived  with  my  aunt,  appeared.  When 
my  aunt  asked  his  opinion  about  what  to  do  with  me,  his 
advice  was  to  wash  me. 

This  Janet,  the  maid,  was  preparing  to  do,  when  sud- 
denly my  aunt  became,  in  one  moment,  rigid  with  indignation, 
and  cried  out,  "Janet!  Donkeys!" 

Upon  which,  Janet  came  running  as  if  the  house  were  in 
flames,  and  darted  out  on  a  little  piece  of  green  in  front,  to 
warn  off  two  donkeys,  lady  ridden,  while  my  aunt  seized  the 
bridle  of  a  third  animal,  laden  with  a  child,  led  him  from  the 
sacred  spot,  and  boxed  the  ears  of  the  unlucky  urchin  in 
attendance. 

To  this  hour  I  do  not  know  whether  my  aunt  had  any 
lawful  right  of  way  over  that  patch  of  green,  but  she  had  set- 
tled it  in  her  own  mind  that  she  had,  and  it  was  all  the  same 
to  her.  The  passage  of  a  donkey  over  that  spot  was  the 
one  great  outrage  of  her  life.  In  whatever  occupation  or 
conversation  she  was  engaged,  a  donkey  turned  the  current 
of  her  ideas,  and  she  was  upon  him  straight.  Jugs  of  water 
were  kept  in  secret  places  ready  to  be  discharged  on  the  offend- 
ers, sticks  were  laid  in  ambush  behind  the  doors  ;  sallies  were 
made  at  all  hours,  and  incessant  war  prevailed,  which  was  per- 
haps an  agreeable  excitement  to  the  donkey  boys. 

The  bath  was  a  great  comfort,  for  I  began  to  feel  acute 
pains  in  my  limbs,  and  was  so  tired  that  I  could  scarcely 
keep  awake  for  five  minutes  together.  Enrobed  in  clothes 

in 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES     DICKENS 

belonging  to  Mr.  Dick,  and  tied  up  in  great  shawls,  I  fell 
asleep,  on  the  sofa,  and  only  awoke  in  time  to  dine  off  a 
roast  fowl  and  pudding,  while  my  aunt  asked  me  a  number  of 
questions,  and  spoke  of  my  mother  and  Peggotty,  and  in 
the  afternoon  we  talked  again  and  there  was  another  alarm  of 
Donkeys. 

After  tea  we  sat  at  the  window  until  dusk,  and  shortly 
afterwards  I  was  escorted  up  to  a  pleasant  room  at  the  top 
of  the  house.  When  I  had  said  my  prayers,  and  the  candle 
had  burnt  out,  I  lay  there  yielding  to  a  sensation  of  profound 
gratitude  and  rest,  nestling  in  the  snow  white  sheets,  and  I 
prayed  that  I  might  never  be  houseless  any  more,  and  might 
never  forget  the  houseless. 

At  breakfast  the  following  day,  I  found  myself  the  object 
of  my  aunt's  most  rigid  scrutiny. 

"  Hallo  ! "  she  said,  after  a  time  to  attract  my  attention, 
and  when  I  looked  up  she  told  me  that  she  had  written  Mr. 
Murdstone  in  regard  to  me,  under  which  information  I  be- 
came heavy  of  heart,  for  I  felt  that  some  efforts  would  be 
made  to  force  me  to  return  to  the  warehouse,  while  the  more 
I  saw  of  my  aunt,  the  more  sure  I  felt  that  she  was  the 
one  with  whom  I  wished  to  stay ;  that  with  all  her  eccentrici- 
ties and  humours,  she  was  one  to  be  honoured  and  trusted  in. 

On  the  second  day  after  my  arrival,  my  Aunt  gave  a  sud- 
den alarm  of  donkeys,  and  to  my  consternation  I  beheld  Miss 
Murdstone  ride  over  the  sacred  piece  of  green,  and  stop  in 
front  of  the  house. 

"  Go  along  with  you ! "  cried  my  aunt,  shaking  her  head 
and  her  fist  at  the  window.  "  You  have  no  business  there 
How  dare  you  trespass  ?  Oh  !  you  bold-faced  thing  !  " 

I  hurriedly  told  her  who  the  offender  was,  and  that  Mr. 
Murdstone  was  behind  her,  but  Aunt  Betsey  was  frantic,  and 
cried,  "  I  don't  care  who  it  is  —  I  won't  allow  it !  Go  away  ! 

112 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

Janet,  lead  him  off! "  and  from  behind  my  aunt,  I  saw  the 
donkey  pulled  round  by  the  bridle,  while  Mr.  Murdstone 
tried  to  lead  him  on,  and  Miss  Murdstone  struck  at  Janet 
with  a  parasol,  and  several  boys  shouted  vigorously.  But 
my  aunt  suddenly  discovering  the  donkey's  guardian  to  be 
one  of  the  most  inveterate  offenders  against  her,  rushed  out 
and  pounced  upon  him,  while  the  Murdstones  waited  until  she 
should  be  at  leisure  to  receive  them.  She  marched  past  them 
into  the  house,  a  little  ruffled  by  the  combat,  and  took 
no  notice  of  them  until  they  were  announced  by  Janet. 

"  Shall  I  go  away,  aunt  ?  "  I  asked  trembling. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  she.  "  Certainly  not !  "  With  which  she 
pushed  me  into  a  corner,  and  fenced  me  in  with  a  chair,  as  if  it 
were  a  prison,  and  there  I  stayed.  There  were  several  sharp 
passages  at  arms  between  my  aunt  and  the  Murdstones,  when 
my  past,  and  my  mother's  life  came  up  for  discussion.  Finally 
Mr.  Murdstone  said : 

"  I  am  here  to  take  David  back,  Miss  Trotwood ;  to  dis- 
pose of  him  as  I  think  proper,  and  to  deal  with  him  as  I 
think  right.  I  am  not  here  to  make  any  promise  to  anybody. 
You  may  possibly  have  some  idea,  Miss  Trotwood,  of  abet- 
ting him  in  his  running  away,  and  in  his  complaints  to  you. 
Now,  I  must  caution  you,  that  if  you  abet  him  once,  you  abet 
him  for  good  and  all.  I  cannot  trifle,  or  be  trifled  with.  I 
am  here,  for  the  first  and  last  time,  to  take  him  away.  Is 
he  ready  to  go  ?  If  you  tell  me  he  is  not,  it  is  indifferent  to 
me  on  what  pretence,  —  my  doors  are  shut  against  him  hence- 
forth, and  yours,  I  take  it  for  granted  are  open  to  him." 

My  aunt  had  listened  with  the  closest  attention,  her 
hands  folded  on  her  knee,  and  looking  grimly  at  the  speaker. 
When  he  had  finished,  she  turned  to  Miss  Murdstone,  and 
said : 

"Well,  ma'am,  havej0#  got  anything  to  remark?" 
8  113 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

As  she  had  not,  my  aunt  turned  to  me. 

"And  what  does  the  boy  say  ?  "  she  said.  "  Are  you  ready 
to  go,  David  ?  " 

I  answered  no,  and  entreated  her  not  to  let  me  go.  I 
begged  and  prayed  my  aunt  to  befriend  and  protect  me,  for 
my  father's  sake. 

My  aunt  consulted  for  a  moment  with  Mr.  Dick,  and 
then  she  pulled  me  towards  her,  and  said  to  Mr.  Murdstone  : 

"  You  can  go  when  you  like ;  I  '11  take  my  chance  with 
the  boy.  If  he  's  all  you  say  he  is,  at  least  I  can  do  as  much 
for  him  then,  as  you  have  done.  But  I  don't  believe  a  word 
of  it." 

There  were  some  additional  words  on  both  sides,  and 
then  the  Murdstones  stood  ready  to  leave. 

"  Good  day,  sir,"  said  my  aunt  "  and  good-bye  !  Good 
day  to  you  too,  ma'am,"  —  turning  suddenly  upon  his  sister. 
"  Let  me  see  you  ride  a  donkey  over  my  green  again,  and 
as  sure  as  you  have  a  head  upon  your  shoulders,  I  '11  knock 
your  bonnet  off,  and  tread  upon  it ! " 

The  manner  and  matter  of  this  speech  were  so  fiery,  that 
Miss  Murdstone  without  a  word  in  answer,  discreetly  put 
her  arm  through  her  brother's,  and  walked  hastily  out  of  the 
cottage,  my  aunt  remaining  at  the  window,  prepared  in  case  of 
the  donkey's  re-appearance,  to  carry  her  threat  into  execution. 
No  attempt  at  defiance  being  made,  however,  her  face  gradually 
relaxed,  and  became  so  pleasant,  that  I  was  emboldened  to  kiss 
and  thank  her ;  which  I  did  with  great  heartiness.  She  then 
told  me  that  she  wished  my  name  to  be  changed  to  Trotwood 
Copperfield,  and  this  notion  so  pleased  her,  that  some  ready- 
made  clothes  purchased  for  me  that  very  day,  were  marked 
"Trotwood  Copperfield,"  in  indelible  ink  before  I  put  them 
on,  and  it  was  settled  that  all  my  clothes  thereafter  should  be 
marked  in  the  same  way. 

"4 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

Thus  I  began  my  new  life  in  a  new  name,  and  with  every- 
thing new  about  me.  For  many  days  I  felt  that  it  was  all  a 
dream,  and  then  the  truth  came  over  me  in  waves  of  joy  that 
it  was  no  dream,  but  blessed,  blessed  reality  ! 

Aunt  Betsey  soon  sent  me  to  Doctor  Strong's  excellent 
school  at  Canterbury.  It  was  decorously  ordered  on  a  sound 
system,  with  an  appeal  in  everything  to  the  honour  and  good 
faith  of  the  boys.  We  all  felt  that  we  had  a  part  in  the  man- 
agement of  the  place,  and  learnt  with  a  good  will,  desiring  to  do 
it  credit.  We  had  noble  games  out  of  hours,  and  plenty  of 
liberty,  and  the  whole  plan  of  the  school  was  as  superior  to 
that  of  Salem  House  as  can  be  imagined.  I  soon  became 
warmly  attached  to  the  place,  the  teachers,  and  the  boys,  and  in 
a  little  while  the  Murdstone  and  Grinsby  life  became  so 
strange  that  I  hardly  believed  in  it.  Of  course  I  wrote  to 
Peggotty,  relating  my  experiences,  and  how  my  aunt  had  taken 
me  under  her  care,  and  returning  the  half  guinea  I  had  bor- 
rowed, and  Peggotty  answered  promptly,  but  although  she  ex- 
pressed herself  as  glad  in  my  gladness,  I  could  see  that  she  did 
not  take  quite  kindly  to  my  Aunt  as  yet. 

The  days  glide  swiftly  on.  I  am  higher  in  the  school, —  I 
am  growing  great  in  Latin  verse,  think  dancing  school  a  tire- 
some affair,  and  neglect  the  laces  of  my  boots.  Doctor  Strong 
refers  to  me  publicly  as  a  promising  young  scholar,  at  which 
my  aunt  remits  me  a  guinea  by  the  next  post. 

The  shade  of  a  young  butcher  crosses  my  path.  He  is  the 
terror  of  Doctor  Strong's  young  gentlemen,  whom  he  publicly 
disparages.  He  names  individuals  (myself  included)  whom  he 
could  undertake  to  settle  with  one  hand,  and  the  other  tied 
behind  him.  He  waylays  the  smaller  boys  to  punch  their 
unprotected  heads,  and  calls  challenges  after  me  in  the  streets. 
For  these  reasons,  I  resolve  to  fight  the  butcher. 

We  meet  by  appointment  with  a  select  audience.  Soon,  I 

"5 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

don't  know  where  the  wall  is,  or  where  I  am,  or  where  any- 
body is,  but  after  a  bloody  tangle  and  tussle  in  the  trodden 
grass,  feeling  very  queer  about  the  head,  I  awake,  and  augur 
justly  that  the  victory  is  not  mine.  I  am  taken  home  in  a  sad 
plight,  to  have  beef-steaks  put  to  my  eyes,  and  am  rubbed 
with  vinegar  and  brandy,  and  find  a  great  white  puffy  place  on 
my  upper  lip,  and  for  several  days  I  remain  in  the  house  with 
a  green  shade  over  my  eyes,  and  yet  feeling  that  I  did  right 
to  fight  the  butcher. 

I  change  more  and  more,  and  now  I  am  the  head  boy.  I 
wear  a  gold  watch  and  chain,  a  ring  upon  my  little  finger,  and 
a  long-tailed  coat.  I  am  seventeen,  and  am  smitten  with  a 
violent  passion  for  the  eldest  Miss  Larkins,  who  is  about  thirty. 
She  amuses  herself  with  me  as  with  a  new  toy,  wears  my  ring 
for  a  season,  and  then  announces  her  engagement  to  a  Mr. 
Chestle.  I  am  terribly  dejected  for  a  week  or  two,  then  I  rally, 
become  a  boy  once  more,  fight  the  butcher  again,  gloriously 
defeat  him,  and  feel  better, —  and  soon  my  school  days  draw  to 
a  close. 

My  aunt  and  I  had  many  grave  deliberations  on  the  calling 
to  which  I  should  devote  myself,  but  could  come  to  no  conclu- 
sion, as  I  had  no  particular  liking  that  I  could  discover,  for  any 
profession.  So  my  aunt  proposed  that  while  I  was  thinking  the 
matter  over,  I  take  a  little  trip,  a  breathing  spell,  as  it  were. 

"  What  I  want  you  to  be,  Trot,"  said  my  aunt, —  "  I  don't 
mean  physically,  but  morally ;  you  are  very  well  physically  — 
is,  a  firm  fellow,  a  fine,  firm  fellow,  with  a  will  of  your  own,  with 
determination.  With  character,  Trot,  with  strength  of  character 
that  is  not  to  be  influenced,  except  on  good  reason,  by  anybody, 
or  by  anything.  That 's  what  I  want  you  to  be." 

I  intimated  that  I  hoped  I  should  be  what  she  described, 
and  she  added  that  it  was  best  for  me  to  go  on  my  trip  alone, 
to  learn  to  rely  upon  myself. 

116 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

So  I  was  fitted  out  with  a  handsome  purse  of  money,  and 
tenderly  dismissed  upon  my  expedition,  promising  to  write 
three  times  a  week,  and  to  be  back  in  a  month's  time. 

I  went  first  to  say  farewell  to  Doctor  Strong,  and  then  took 
my  seat  on  the  box  of  the  London  coach.  It  was  interesting 
to  be  sitting  up  there,  behind  four  horses  ;  well  educated,  well 
dressed,  with  plenty  of  money,  and  to  look  out  for  the  places 
where  I  had  slept  on  my  weary  journey.  I  stretched  my  neck 
eagerly,  looking  for  old  landmarks,  and  when  we  passed  Salem 
House  I  fairly  tingled  with  emotion.  At  Charing  Cross  I 
stopped  at  the  Golden  Cross,  and  as  soon  as  I  had  taken  a 
room,  ordered  my  dinner,  trying  to  appear  as  old  and  dignified 
as  possible.  In  the  evening  I  went  to  the  Covent  Garden 
Theatre,  and  saw  Julius  Cassar  and  a  pantomime.  It  was  new 
to  me,  and  the  mingled  reality  and  mystery  of  the  whole  show, 
lights,  music,  company,  and  glittering  scenery,  were  so  dazzling 
that  when  I  went  out  at  midnight  into  the  rain,  I  felt  as  if  I 
had  been  for  a  time  an  inmate  of  another  world,  and  was  so 
excited  that  instead  of  going  to  my  room  in  the  hotel  I  ordered 
some  porter  and  oysters,  and  sat  revolving  the  glorious  visions 
in  my  mind  until  past  one  o'clock.  Presently,  I  began  to 
watch  a  young  man  near  me  whose  face  was  very  familiar. 
Finally,  I  rose,  and  with  a  fast-beating  heart  said, 

"  Steerforth,  won't  you  speak  to  me  ? " 

He  quickly  glanced  up,  but  there  was  no  recognition  in  his 
face. 

"My  God,"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  "It's  little  Copper- 
field!" 

Then  ensued  a  violent  shaking  of  hands,  and  a  volley  of 
questions  on  both  sides.  He  was  studying  at  Oxford,  but  was 
on  his  way  to  visit  his  mother,  who  lived  just  out  of  London. 
He  was  as  handsome,  and  fascinating,  and  gay,  as  ever,  in  fact 
quite  bewilderingly  so  to  me ;  and  all  those  things  which  I  en- 

117 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

joyed,  he  pronounced  dreadful  bores,  quite  like  a  man  of  the 
world.  However,  we  got  on  famously,  and  when  he  invited 
me  to  go  with  him  to  his  home  at  Highgate,  I  accepted  with 
pleasure,  and  spent  a  delightful  week  there  in  the  genteel,  old- 
fashioned,  quiet  home.  At  the  end  of  the  week,  Steerforth 
decided  to  go  with  me  to  Yarmouth,  so  we  travelled  on  together 
to  the  inn  there,  and  took  rooms. 

As  early  as  possible  the  next  day,  I  visited  Peggotty.  She 
did  not  recognise  me  after  our  seven  years'  separation,  but 
when  at  last  it  dawned  on  her  who  I  was,  she  cried,  "  My  dar- 
ling boy !  "  and  we  both  burst  into  tears,  and  were  locked  in 
one  another's  arms  as  though  I  were  a  child  again. 

That  evening  Steerforth  and  I  went  to  see  Mr.  Peggotty 
and  my  other  friends  in  the  boat,  and  we  were  so  warmly 
received  that  it  was  nearly  midnight  when  we  took  our  leave. 
We  stayed  in  Yarmouth  for  more  than  a  fortnight,  and  I  made 
many  pilgrimages  to  the  dear  haunts  of  my  childhood,  par- 
ticularly to  that  place  where  my  mother  and  father  lay,  and 
mingled  with  my  sad  thoughts  were  brighter  ones,  about  my 
future  —  and  of  how  in  it  I  was  to  become  a  man  of  whom 
they  might  have  been  proud. 

At  the  end  of  the  fortnight  came  a  letter  from  Aunt  Betsey, 
saying  that  she  had  taken  lodgings  for  a  week  in  London,  and 
that  if  I  would  join  her,  we  could  discuss  her  latest  plan  for  me, 
which  was  that  I  become  a  proctor  in  Doctors'  Commons. 

I  mentioned  the  plan  to  Steerforth,  and  he  advised  me  to 
take  kindly  to  it,  and  by  the  time  that  I  reached  London  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  to  do  so.  My  aunt  was  greatly  pleased  when 
I  told  her  this,  whereupon  I  proceeded  to  add  that  my  only 
objection  to  the  plan  lay  in  the  great  expense  it  would  be  to 
article  me,  —  a  thousand  pounds  at  least.  I  spoke  of  her  past 
liberality  to  me,  and  asked  her  whether  I  had  not  better  choose 
some  work  which  required  less  expensive  preliminaries. 

118 


DAVID     COPPERFIELD 

For  a  time  my  aunt  was  deep  in  thought.  Then  she 
replied : 

"  Trot,  my  child,  if  I  have  any  object  in  life,  it  is  to  pro- 
vide for  your  being  a  good,  sensible,  and  happy  man.  I  am 
bent  upon  it.  It 's  in  vain,  Trot,  to  recall  the  past,  unless  it 
has  some  influence  upon  the  present.  Perhaps  I  might  have 
been  better  friends  with  your  father  and  mother.  When  you 
came  to  me,  a  little  runaway  boy,  perhaps  I  thought  so. 
From  that  time  until  now,  Trot,  you  have  ever  been  a  credit 
to  me,  and  a  pride  and  pleasure.  I  have  no  other  claim  upon 
my  means,  —  and  you  are  my  adopted  child.  Only  be  a  lov- 
ing child  to  me  in  my  old  age,  and  bear  with  my  whims  and 
fancies,  and  you  will  do  more  for  an  old  woman  whose  prime 
of  life  was  not  so  happy  as  it  might  have  been,  than  ever  that 
old  woman  did  for  you." 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  heard  my  aunt  refer  to  her  past 
history.  Her  quiet  way  of  doing  it  would  have  exalted  her  in 
my  respect  and  affection,  if  anything  could. 

"  All  is  agreed  and  understood  between  us  now,  Trot,"  she 
said,  "  and  we  need  talk  of  this  no  more.  Give  me  a  kiss,  and 
we  '11  go  to  the  Commons  in  the  morning." 

And  accordingly  at  noon  the  next  day  we  made  our  way 
to  Doctors'  Commons,  interviewed  Mr.  Spenlow,  of  the  firm 
of  Spenlow  and  Jorkins,  and  I  was  accepted  on  a  month's  pro- 
bation as  an  articled  clerk.  Mr.  Spenlow  then  conducted  me 
through  the  Court,  that  I  might  see  what  sort  of  a  place  it  was. 
Then  my  aunt  and  I  set  off  in  search  of  lodgings  for  me,  and 
before  night  I  was  the  proud  and  happy  owner  of  the  key  to  a 
little  set  of  chambers  in  the  Adelphi,  conveniently  situated  near 
the  Court,  and  to  my  taste  in  all  ways.  Seeing  how  enraptured 
I  was  with  them,  my  aunt  took  them  for  a  month,  with  the  privi- 
lege of  a  year,  made  arrangements  with  the  landlady  about 
meals  and  linen,  and  I  was  to  take  possession  in  two  days ; 

119 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

during  which  time  I  saw  Aunt  Betsey  safely  started  on  her 
homeward  journey  towards  Dover,  dreading  to  leave  me,  but 
exulting  in  the  coming  discomfiture  of  the  vagrant  donkeys. 

It  was  a  wonderfully  fine  thing  to  have  that  lofty  castle  to 
myself,  and  when  I  had  taken  possession  and  shut  my  outer 
door,  I  felt  like  Robinson  Crusoe,  when  he  had  got  within  his 
fortification,  and  pulled  his  ladder  up  after  him.  I  felt  rich, 
powerful,  old,  and  important,  and  when  I  walked  out  about 
town,  with  the  keys  of  my  house  in  my  pocket,  and  able  to  ask 
any  fellow  to  come  home  with  me,  without  giving  anybody  any 
inconvenience,  I  became  a  quite  different  personage  than  ever 
heretofore. 

Whatever  there  was  of  happiness  or  of  sorrow,  of  success 
or  of  failure,  in  my  later  life,  does  not  belong  on  these  pages. 
The  identity  of  the  child,  and  of  the  boy,  David  Copperfield  is 
now  forever  merged  in  the  personality  of —  Trotwood  Copper- 
field,  Esquire,  householder  and  Man. 


KIT      NUBBLES 


KIT  NUBBLES. 


KIT     NUBBLES 

CHRISTOPHER,  or  Kit  Nubbles,  as  he  was  com- 
monly called,  was  not  handsome  in  the  estimation 
of  anyone  except  his  mother,  and  mothers  are  apt 
to  be  partial.  He  was  a  shock-headed,  shambling, 
awkward  lad,  with  an  uncommonly  wide  mouth,  very  red 
cheeks,  a  turned-up  nose,  and  certainly  the  most  comical 
expression  of  face  I  ever  saw. 

He  was  errand-boy  at  the  Old  Curiosity  Shop,  and  deeply 
attached  to  both  little  Nell  Trent  and  her  grandfather,  his 
employer.  And  just  here  let  me  explain  that  Nell's  grand- 
father led  a  curious  sort  of  double  life ;  his  days  were  spent 
in  the  shop,  but  when  night  fell,  he  invariably  took  his  cloak, 
his  hat,  and  his  stick,  and  kissing  the  child,  passed  out,  leaving 
her  alone  through  the  long  hours  of  the  night,  and  Nell  had  no 
knowledge  that  in  those  nightly  absences  he  was  haunting  the 
gaming  table  ;  risking  large  sums,  and  ever  watching  with 
feverish  anticipation  for  the  time  when  he  should  win  a  vast 
fortune  to  lay  by  for  the  child,  his  pet  and  darling,  to  keep  her 
from  want  if  death  should  take  him  away.  But  of  this  little 
Nell  knew  nothing,  or  she  would  have  implored  him  to  give 
up  the  wicked  and  dangerous  pastime. 

Nor  did  she  know  that  it  was  from  Quilp,  a  strange,  rich, 
little  dwarf,  who  had  many  trades  and  callings,  that  her  grand- 
father was  borrowing  the  money  which  he  staked  nightly  in 
hopes  of  winning  more,  pledging  his  little  stock  as  security  for 
the  debt. 

It  was  a  lonely  life  that  Nell  led,  with  only  the  old  man 
for  companion,  so  she  had  a  genuine  affection  for  the  awkward 

123 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

errand-boy,  Christopher,  who  was  one  of  the  few  bits  of  comedy 
in  her  days,  and  his  devotion  to  her  verged  on  worship.  One 
morning  Nell's  grandfather  sent  her  with  a  note  to  the  little 
dwarf,  Quilp ;  and  Kit,  who  escorted  her,  while  he  waited  for 
her,  got  into  a  tussle  with  Quilp's  boy,  who  asserted  that  Nell 
was  ugly,  and  that  she  and  her  grandfather  were  entirely  in 
Quilp's  power. 

That  was  too  much  for  Kit  to  bear  in  silence,  and  he 
retorted  that  Quilp  was  the  ugliest  dwarf  that  could  be 
seen  anywheres  for  a  penny. 

This  enraged  Quilp's  boy,  who  sprang  upon  Kit,  and  the 
two  were  engaged  in  a  hand-to-hand  fight,  when  Quilp  appeared 
and  separated  them,  asking  the  cause  of  the  quarrel,  and  was 
told  that  Kit  had  called  him,  "  The  ugliest  dwarf  that  could  be 
seen  anywheres  for  a  penny."  Poor  Kit  never  dreamed  that 
his  unguarded  remark  was  to  be  treasured  up  against  him  in 
the  mind  of  the  jealous,  vindictive,  little  dwarf,  and  used  to 
separate  him  from  his  idolised  mistress  and  her  grandfather, 
but  it  was  even  so,  for  there  was  a  power  of  revenge,  a  hatred, 
in  the  tiny  body  of  the  dwarf,  entirely  out  of  proportion  to 
his  size. 

Quilp  at  this  time  desired  to  injure  the  old  man  and  his 
grandchild,  and  soon  made  several  discoveries  in  a  secret  way, 
which,  added  to  what  he  found  out  from  little  Nell's  own  artless 
words  about  her  home  life,  and  her  grandfather's  habits,  enabled 
him  to  put  two  and  two  together,  and  guess  correctly  for  what 
purpose  the  old  man  borrowed  such  large  sums  from  him,  and 
he  refused  him  further  loans.  More  than  this,  he  told  the 
old  man  that  he  (Quilp)  held  a  bill  of  sale  on  his  stock  and 
property,  and  that  he  and  little  Nell  would  be  henceforth 
homeless  and  penniless. 

The  old  man  pleaded,  with  agony  in  his  face  and  voice  for 
one  more  advance,  —  one  more  trial,  —  but  Quilp  was  firm. 

124 


KIT      NUBBLES 

"  Who  is  it  ? "  retorted  the  old  man,  desperately,  "  that, 
notwithstanding  all  my  caution,  told  you  ?  Come,  let  me 
know  the  name,  —  the  person." 

The  crafty  dwarf  stopped  short  in  his  answer,  and  said,  — 

"  Now,  who  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  It  was  Kit.  It  must  have  been  the  boy.  He  played  the 
spy,  and  you  tampered  with  him." 

"  How  came  you  to  think  of  him  ?  "  said  the  dwarf.  "Yes, 
it  was  Kit.  Poor  Kit !  "  So  saying,  he  nodded  in  a  friendly 
manner,  and  took  his  leave ;  stopping  when  he  passed  the 
outer  door  a  little  distance,  and  grinning  with  extraordinary 
delight. 

"  Poor  Kit !  "  muttered  Quilp.  "  I  think  it  was  Kit  who 
said  I  was  an  uglier  dwarf  than  could  be  seen  anywhere  for  a 
penny,  was  n't  it  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Poor  Kit !  " 

And  with  that  he  went  his  way,  still  chuckling  as  he  went. 

That  evening  Kit  spent  in  his  own  home.  The  room  in 
which  he  sat  down,  was  an  extremely  poor  and  homely  place, 
but  with  that  air  of  comfort  about  it,  nevertheless,  which 
cleanliness  and  order  can  always  impart  in  some  degree.  Late 
as  the  Dutch  clock  showed  it  to  be,  Kit's  mother  was  still  hard 
at  work  at  an  ironing-table ;  a.  young  child  lay  sleeping  in  a 
cradle  near  the  fire ;  and  another,  a  sturdy  boy  of  two  or  three 
years  old,  very  wide  awake,  was  sitting  bolt  upright  in  a 
clothes-basket,  staring  over  the  rim  with  his  great  round  eyes. 
It  was  rather  a  queer-looking  family ;  Kit,  his  mother,  and  the 
children,  being  all  strongly  alike. 

Kit  was  disposed  to  be  out  of  temper,  but  he  looked  at 
the  youngest  child,  and  from  him  to  his  other  brother  in  the 
clothes-basket,  and  from  him  to  his  mother,  who  had  been  at 
work  without  complaint  since  morning,  and  thought  it  would 
be  a  better  and  kinder  thing  to  be  good-humoured.  So  he  rocked 
the  cradle  with  his  foot,  made  a  face  at  the  rebel  in  the  clothes- 

125 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

basket,  which  put  him  in  high  good-humour  directly,  and  stoutly 
determined  to  be  talkative,  and  make  himself  agreeable. 

"  Did  you  tell  me  just  now,  that  your  master  had  n't  gone 
out  to-night  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Nubbles. 

"  Yes,"  said  Kit,  "  worse  luck  ! " 

"  You  should  say  better  luck,  I  think,"  returned  his  mother^ 
"  because  Miss  Nelly  won't  have  been  left  alone." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Kit,  "  I  forgot  that.  I  said  worse  luck,  because 
I  Ve  been  watching  ever  since  eight  o'clock,  and  seen  nothing 
of  her.  Hark,  what 's  that  ?  " 

"  It 's  only  somebody  outside." 

"  It 's  somebody  crossing  over  here,"  said  Kit,  standing 
up  to  listen,  "  and  coming  very  fast  too.  He  can't  have  gone 
out  after  I  left,  and  the  house  caught  fire,  mother !  " 

The  boy  stood  for  a  moment,  really  bereft,  by  the  appre- 
hension he  had  conjured  up,  of  the  power  to  move.  The 
footsteps  drew  nearer,  the  door  was  opened  with  a  hasty  hand, 
and  the  child  herself,  pale  and  breathless,  hurried  into  the 
room. 

"  Miss  Nelly  !  What  is  the  matter  ? "  cried  mother  and 
son  together. 

"  I  must  not  stay  a  moment,"  she  returned,  "  grandfather 
has  been  taken  very  ill.  I  found  him  in  a  fit  upon  the 
floor." 

"  I  '11  run  for  a  doctor  — "  said  Kit,  seizing  his  brimless 
hat.  "  I  Ml  be  there  directly,  I  '11  —  " 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Nell,  "  there  is  one  there,  you  're  not 
wanted,  you  —  you  —  must  never  come  near  us  any  more  !  " 

"What!"  roared  Kit. 

"  Never  again,"  said  the  child.  "  Don't  ask  me  why,  for 
I  don't  know.  Pray  don't  ask  me  why,  pray  don't  be  sorry, 
pray  don't  be  vexed  with  me !  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  it 
indeed ! 

126 


KIT      NUBBLES 

"  He  complains  of  you  and  raves  of  you,"  added  the 
child,  "  I  don't  know  what  you  have  done,  but  I  hope  it 's 
nothing  very  bad." 

"/done!  "roared  Kit. 

"  He  cries  that  you  're  the  cause  of  all  his  misery,"  re- 
turned the  child,  with  tearful  eyes.  "  He  screamed  and  called 
for  you  ;  they  say  you  must  not  come  near  him,  or  he  will  die. 
You  must  not  return  to  us  any  more.  I  came  to  tell  you.  I 
thought  it  would  be  better  that  I  should.  Oh,  Kit,  what  have 
you  done  ?  You,  in  whom  I  trusted  so  much,  and  who  were 
almost  the  only  friend  I  had  !  " 

The  unfortunate  Kit  looked  at  his  young  mistress  harder 
and  harder,  and  with  eyes  growing  wider  and  wider,  but  was 
perfectly  motionless  and  still. 

"  I  have  brought  his  money  for  the  week,"  said  the  child, 
looking  to  the  woman,  and  laying  it  on  the  table,  —  "  and  — 
and  —  a  little  more,  for  he  was  always  good  and  kind  to  me. 
I  hope  he  will  be  sorry  and  do  well  somewhere  else  and  not 
take  this  to  heart  too  much.  It  grieves  me  very  much  to  part 
with  him  like  this,  but  there  is  no  help.  It  must  be  done. 
Good-night ! " 

With  the  tears  streaming  down  her  face,  and  her  slight 
figure  trembling  with  intense  agitation,  the  child  hastened 
to  the  door,  and  disappeared  as  rapidly  as  she  had  come. 

The  poor  woman,  who  had  no  cause  to  doubt  her  son,  but 
every  reason  for  relying  on  his  honesty  and  truth,  was  staggered, 
notwithstanding,  by  his  not  having  advanced  one  word  in  his 
own  defence. 

Visions  of  gallantry,  knavery,  robbery,  flocked  into  her 
brain  and  rendered  her  afraid  to  question  him.  She  rocked 
herself  upon  a  chair,  wringing  her  hands  and  weeping  bitterly. 
The  baby  in  the  cradle  woke  up  and  cried ;  the  boy  in  the 
clothes-basket  fell  over  on  his  back  with  the  basket  on 

127 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

him,  and  was  seen  no  more ;  the  mother  wept  louder  yet  and 
rocked  faster;  but  Kit,  insensible  to  all  the  din  and  tumult, 
remained  in  a  state  of  utter  stupefaction. 

Of  course,  after  that  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do 
but  to  keep  as  far  away  as  possible  from  the  shop,  which 
he  did,  except  in  the  evenings,  when  he  often  stole  beneath 
Nell's  window  on  a  chance  of  merely  seeing  her.  One  night 
he  was  rewarded  by  a  scrap  of  whispered  conversation  with 
her  from  her  window.  She  told  him  how  sick  her  grand- 
father had  been,  and  over  and  over  Kit  reiterated  all  there 
was  for  him  to  say  —  that  he  had  done  nothing  to  cause  that 
sickness. 

"  He  '11  be  sure  to  get  better  now,"  said  the  boy,  anxiously, 
"when  he  does,  say  a  good  word  —  say  a  kind  word  for  me, 
Miss  Nell ! " 

"They  tell  me  I  must  not  even  mention  your  name 
to  him  for  a  long,  long  time,"  rejoined  the  child.  "  I 
dare  not ;  and  even  if  I  might,  what  good  would  a  kind  word 
do  you,  Kit?  We  shall  be  very  poor  they  say.  We  shall 
scarcely  have  bread  to  eat,  for  everything  has  been  taken 
from  us." 

"It's  not  that  I  may  be  taken  back,"  said  the  boy. 
"  No,  it's  not  that.  It  is  n't  for  the  sake  of  food  and  wages 
that  I  've  been  waiting  about  in  hopes  of  seeing  you.  Don't 
think  that  I  'd  come  in  a  time  of  trouble  to  talk  of  such  things 
as  them.  It 's  something  very  different  from  that.  Perhaps 
he  might  think  it  over-venturesome  of  me  to  say  —  well  then, 
—  to  say  this,"  said  Kit,  with  sudden  boldness.  "  This  home 
is  gone  from  you  and  him.  Mother  and  I  have  got  a  poor 
one,  and  why  not  come  there,  till  he 's  had  time  to  look  about 
and  find  a  better?  You  think,"  said  the  boy,  "that  it's 
very  small  and  inconvenient.  So  it  is,  but  it 's  very  clean. 
Do  try,  Miss  Nell,  do  try.  The  little  front  room  upstairs 

128 


KIT      NUBBLES 

is  very  pleasant.  Mother  says  it  would  be  just  the  thing  for 
you,  and  so  it  would ;  and  you  'd  have  her  to  wait  upon  you 
both,  and  me  to  run  errands.  We  don't  mean  money,  bless 
you  ;  you  're  not  to  think  of  that !  Will  you  try  him,  Miss 
Nell  ?  Only  say  you  '11  try  him.  Do  try  to  make  old  master 
come,  and  ask  him  first  what  I  have  done.  Will  you  only 
promise  that,  Miss  Nell  ?  " 

The  street  door  opened  suddenly  just  then,  and,  conscious 
that  they  were  overheard,  Nell  closed  her  window  quickly, 
and  Kit  stole  away.  And  that  was  his  last  view  of  his  beloved 
mistress,  for  shortly  afterwards  the  Old  Curiosity  Shop  was 
vacant  of  its  tenants.  Little  Nell  and  her  grandfather  had 
quietly  slipped  away,  under  cover  of  night,  to  face  their  pov- 
erty in  a  new  place ;  where,  no  one  knew  or  could  find  out ; 
and  all  that  remained  to  Kit  to  remind  him  of  his  past,  was 
Nell's  bird,  which  he  rescued  from  the  shop,  (now  in  Quilp's 
hands),  took  home,  and  hung  in  his  window,  to  the  immeasur- 
able delight  of  his  whole  family. 

It  now  remained  for  Kit  to  find  a  new  situation,  and  he 
roamed  the  city  in  search  of  one  daily.  He  was  quite  tired 
out  with  pacing  the  streets,  to  say  nothing  of  repeated  dis- 
appointments, and  was  sitting  down  upon  a  step  to  rest, 
one  day,  when  there  approached  towards  him  a  little  clattering, 
jingling,  four-wheeled  chaise,  drawn  by  a  little  obstinate-look- 
ing, rough-coated  pony,  and  driven  by  a  little  placid-faced 
old  gentleman.  Beside  the  little  old  gentleman  sat  a  little 
old  lady,  plump  and  placid  like  himself.  As  they  passed 
where  he  sat,  Kit  looked  so  wistfully  at  the  little  turnout, 
that  the  old  gentleman  looked  at  him.  Kit  rising  and 
putting  his  hand  to  his  hat,  the  old  gentleman  intimated 
to  the  pony  that  he  wished  to  stop,  to  which  proposal  the 
pony  graciously  acceded. 

"  I    beg   your  pardon,   sir,"   said    Kit.     "  I  'm  sorry  you 

9  129 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

stopped,    sir,       I    only    meant,    did    you    want    your    horse 
minded." 

"  I  'm  going  to  get  down  in  the  next  street,"  returned 
the  old  gentleman.  "  If  you  like  to  come  on  after  us,  you 
may  have  the  job." 

Kit  thanked  him,  and  joyfully  obeyed,  and  held  the 
refractory  little  beast  until  the  little  old  lady  and  little  old 
gentleman  came  out,  and  the  old  gentleman,  taking  his  seat 
and  the  reins  again,  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  to  find  a  six- 
pence for  Kit.  Not  a  sixpence  could  he  find,  and  he  thought 
a  shilling  too  much,  but  there  was  no  shop  in  the  street  to  get 
change  at,  so  he  gave  it  to  the  boy. 

"There,"  he  said  jokingly,  "I  'm  coming  here  again  next 
Monday  at  the  same  time,  and  mind  you  're  here,  my  lad,  to 
work  it  out !  " 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Kit.     <c  1  '11  be  sure  to  be  here." 

He  was  quite  serious,  but  they  laughed  heartily  at  his 
saying  so,  and  then  the  pony  started  off  on  a  brisk  trot,  and 
Kit  was  left  alone.  Having  expended  his  treasure  in  such 
purchases  as  he  knew  would  be  most  acceptable  at  home,  not 
forgetting  some  seed  for  the  bird,  he  hastened  back  as  fast 
as  he  could. 

Day  after  day,  as  he  bent  his  steps  homeward,  returning 
from  some  new  effort  to  procure  employment,  Kit  raised  his 
eyes  to  the  window  of  the  little  room  he  had  so  much  com- 
mended to  the  child  Nell,  and  hoped  to  see  some  indication 
of  her  presence. 

"  I  think  they  must  certainly  come  to-morrow,  eh,  moth- 
er ? "  said  Kit,  laying  aside  his  hat  with  a  weary  air,  and 
sighing  as  he  spoke.  "  They  have  been  gone  a  week.  They 
surely  couldn't  stop  away  more  than  a  week,  could  they 
now  ? " 

The  mother  shook  her  head,  and  reminded  him  how  often 

130 


KIT      NUBBLES 

he  had  been  disappointed  already,  and  Kit,  looking  very 
mournful,  clambered  up  to  the  nail,  took  down  the  cage,  and 
set  himself  to  clean  it,  and  to  feed  the  bird.  His  thoughts 
reverting  from  this  occupation  to  the  little  old  gentleman 
who  had  given  him  the  shilling,  he  suddenly  recollected  that 
that  was  the  very  day  —  nay,  nearly  the  very  hour  —  at  which  the 
old  gentleman  had  said  he  should  be  at  the  Notary's  office 
again.  He  no  sooner  remembered  this,  than  hastily  explain- 
ing the  nature  of  his  errand,  he  went  off  at  full  speed  to  the 
appointed  place,  and  although  when  he  arrived  there  it  was 
full  two  minutes  after  the  time  set,  there  was  as  yet  no  pony- 
chaise  to  be  seen.  Greatly  relieved,  Kit  leaned  against  a 
lamp-post  to  take  breath,  and  waited.  Before  long  the  pony 
came  trotting  round  the  corner  of  the  street,  and  behind  him 
sat  the  little  old  gentleman,  and  the  little  old  lady. 

Upon  the  pony's  refusing  to  stand  at  the  proper  place,  the 
old  gentleman  alighted  to  lead  him ;  whereupon  the  pony 
darted  off  with  the  old  lady,  and  stopped  at  the  right  house, 
leaving  the  old  gentleman  to  come  panting  on  behind. 

It  was  then  that  Kit  presented  himself  at  the  pony's  head, 
and  touched  his  hat  with  a  smile. 

"  Why,  bless  me,"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  "  the  lad  is 
here  !  My  dear,  do  you  see  ?  " 

"  I  said  I  'd  be  here,  sir,"  said  Kit,  patting  Whisker's  neck. 
"  I  hope  you  've  had  a  pleasant  ride,  sir.  He  's  a  very  nice 
little  pony." 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "  This  is  an  uncom- 
mon lad ;  a  good  lad,  I  'm  sure." 

"  I  'm  sure  he  is,"  rejoined  the  old  lady.  "  A  very  good 
lad,  and  I  am  sure  he  is  a  good  son." 

Kit  acknowledged  these  expressions  of  confidence  by  touch- 
ing his  hat  again  and  blushing  very  much.  Then  the  old 
gentleman  helped  the  old  lady  out,  and  they  went  into  the 

131 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

office  —  talking  about  him  as  they  went,  Kit  could  not  help 
feeling,  and  a  few  minutes  later  he  was  called  in. 

Kit  entered  in  a  great  tremor,  for  he  was  not  used  to  going 
among  strange  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  the  tin  boxes  and 
bundles  of  dusty  papers  had  in  his  eyes  an  awful  and  a  vener- 
able air.  Mr.  Witherden,  the  notary,  was  a  bustling  gen- 
tleman, who  talked  loud  and  fast. 

"  Well,  boy,"  said  Mr.  Witherden,  "  you  came  to  work  out 
that  shilling,  —  not  to  get  another,  hey  ?  " 

"  No  indeed,  sir,"  replied  Kit,  taking  courage  to  look  up. 
"  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing." 

"  Now/'  said  the  old  gentleman,  Mr.  Garland,  when  they 
had  asked  some  further  questions  of  Kit,  "  I  am  not  going 
to  give  you  anything."  "  But,"  he  added,  "  perhaps  I  may 
want  to  know  something  more  about  you,  so  tell  me  where 
you  live." 

Kit  told  him,  and  the  old  gentleman  wrote  down  the  ad- 
dress with  his  pencil.  He  had  scarcely  done  so,  than  there 
was  a  great  uproar  in  the  street,  and  the  old  lady,  hurrying  to 
the  window,  cried  that  Whisker  had  run  away,  upon  which  Kit 
darted  out  to  the  rescue,  and  the  others  followed.  Even  in 
running  away,  however,  Whisker  was  perverse,  for  he  had 
not  gone  far  when  he  suddenly  stopped.  The  old  lady  then 
stepped  into  her  seat,  and  Mr.  Abel,  her  son,  whom  they  had 
come  to  fetch,  into  his.  The  old  gentleman  took  his  place 
also,  and  they  drove  away,  more  than  once  turning  to  nod 
kindly  to  Kit,  as  he  watched  them  from  the  road. 

When  Kit  reached  home,  to  his  amazement  he  found  the 
pony  and  his  owners  there  too. 

"  We  are  here  before  you,  you  see,  Christopher,'*  said 
Mr.  Garland,  smiling. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Kit,  and  as  he  said  it,  he  looked  towards 
his  mother  for  an  explanation  of  the  visit. 

132 


KIT      NUBBLES 

"  The  gentleman  's  been  kind  enough,  my  dear,"  said  she, 
"  to  ask  me  whether  you  were  in  a  good  place,  or  in  any  place  at 
all,  and  when  I  told  him  no,  he  was  so  good  as  to  say  that  —  " 

"  That  we  wanted  a  good  lad  in  our  house,"  said  the  old 
lady  and  the  old  gentleman  both  together,  "  and  that  perhaps 
we  might  think  of  it,  if  we  found  everything  as  we  would  wish 
it  to  be." 

As  this  thinking  of  it  plainly  meant  the  thinking  of  engaging 
Kit,  he  immediately  fell  into  a  great  flutter;  for  the  little  old 
couple  were  very  methodical  and  cautious,  and  asked  so  many 
questions  that  he  began  to  be  afraid  there  was  no  chance  of  his 
success  ;  but  to  his  surprise  at  last  he  found  himself  formally 
hired  at  an  annual  income  of  Six  Pounds,  over  and  above  his 
board  and  lodging,  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garland,  of  Abel  Cottage, 
Finch  ley ;  and  it  was  settled  that  he  should  repair  to  his  new 
abode  on  the  next  day  but  one. 

"  Well,  mother,"  said  Kit,  hurrying  back  into  the  house, 
after  he  had  seen  the  old  people  to  their  carriage,  "  I  think  my 
fortune 's  about  made  now." 

"  I  should  think  it  was  indeed,  Kit !  "  rejoined  his  mother. 
"  Six  pound  a  year  !  Only  think  !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Kit,  trying  to  maintain  the  gravity  which  the 
consideration  of  such  a  sum  demanded,  but  grinning  with  de- 
light in  spite  of  himself.  "  There  's  a  property  !  Please  God, 
we  '11  make  such  a  lady  of  you  for  Sundays,  mother !  such  a 
scholar  of  Jacob,  such  a  child  of  the  baby,  such  a  room  of  the 
one  upstairs  !  Six  pound  a  year !  " 

The  remainder  of  that  day,  and  the  whole  of  the  next,  were 
a  busy  time  for  the  Nubbles  family,  to  whom  everything  con- 
nected with  Kit's  outfit  and  departure  was  matter  of  as  great 
moment  as  if  he  had  been  about  to  penetrate  into  the  interior 
of  Africa,  or  to  take  a  cruise  round  the  world.  It  would  be 
difficult  to  suppose  that  there  ever  was  a  box  which  was  opened 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

and  shut  so  many  times  within  four-and-twenty  hours  as  that 
which  contained  his  wardrobe  and  necessaries ;  and  certainly 
there  never  was  one  which  to  two  small  eyes  presented  such  a 
mine  of  clothing  as  this  mighty  chest,  with  its  three  shirts,  and 
proportionate  allowance  of  stockings  and  pocket-handkerchiefs, 
disclosed  to  the  astonished  vision  of  little  Jacob. 

At  last,  after  many  kisses  and  hugs  and  tears,  Kit  left 
the  house  on  the  next  morning,  and  set  out  to  walk  to 
Finchley. 

He  wore  no  livery,  but  was  dressed  in  a  coat  of  pepper- 
and-salt,  with  waistcoat  of  canary  colour,  and  nether  garments 
of  iron-grey  ;  besides  these  glories,  he  shone  in  the  lustre  of  a 
new  pair  of  boots  and  an  extremely  stiff  and  shiny  hat.  And 
in  this  attire,  rather  wondering  that  he  attracted  so  little  atten- 
tion, he  made  his  way  towards  Abel  Cottage. 

It  was  a  beautiful  little  cottage,  with  a  thatched  roof  and 
little  spires  at  the  gable-ends,  and  pieces  of  stained  glass  in 
some  of  the  windows.  On  one  side  of  the  house  was  a  little 
stable,  just  the  size  for  the  pony,  with  a  little  room  over  it,  just 
the  size  for  Kit.  White  curtains  were  fluttering,  and  birds  in 
cages  were  singing  at  the  windows ;  plants  were  arranged  on 
either  side  of  the  path,  and  clustered  about  the  door ;  and  the 
garden  was  bright  with  flowers  in  full  bloom,  which  shed  a 
sweet  odour  all  around. 

Everything  within  the  house  and  without  seemed  to  be  the 
perfection  of  neatness  and  order.  Kit  looked  about  him,  and 
admired,  and  looked  again,  before  he  could  make  up  his  mind 
to  turn  his  head  and  ring  the  bell. 

He  rung  the  bell  a  great  many  times,  and  yet  nobody  came. 
But  at  last,  as  he  was  sitting  upon  the  box  thinking  about 
giants*  castles,  and  princesses  tied  up  to  pegs  by  the  hair  of 
their  heads,  and  dragons  bursting  out  from  behind  gates,  and 
other  incidents  of  a  like  nature,  common  in  story-books  to 


KIT      NUBBLES 

youths  on  their  first  visit  to  strange  houses,  the  door  was  gently 
opened,  and  a  little  servant-girl,  very  tidy,  modest,  and  pretty, 
appeared. 

"  I  suppose  you  're  Christopher,  sir  ? "  said  the  servant- 
girl. 

Kit  got  off  the  box,  and  said  yes,  he  was,  and  was 
ushered  in. 

The  old  gentleman  received  him  very  kindly,  and  so  did 
the  old  lady,  whose  previous  good  opinion  of  him  was  greatly 
enhanced  by  his  wiping  his  boots  on  the  mat.  He  was  then 
taken  into  the  parlour  to  be  inspected  in  his  new  clothes ;  and 
then  was  shown  the  garden  and  his  little  room,  and  when  the 
old  gentleman  had  said  all  he  had  to  say  in  the  way  of  promise 
and  advice,  and  Kit  had  said  all  he  had  to  say  in  the  way  of 
assurance  and  thankfulness,  he  was  handed  over  again  to  the 
old  lady,  who,  summoning  the  little  servant-girl  (whose  name 
was  Barbara),  instructed  her  to  take  him  downstairs  and  give 
him  something  to  eat  and  drink  after  his  walk. 

From  that  time  Kit's  was  a  useful,  pleasant  life,  moving  on 
in  a  peaceful  routine  of  duties  and  innocent  joys  from  day  to 
day,  and  from  week  to  week,  —  until  the  great,  longed-for 
epoch  of  his  life  arrived  —  the  day  of  receiving,  for  the  first 
time,  one-fourth  part  of  his  annual  income  of  Six  Pounds. 
It  was  to  be  a  half-holiday,  devoted  to  a  whirl  of  entertain- 
ments, and  little  Jacob  was  to  know  what  oysters  meant,  and 
to  see  a  play. 

The  day  arrived,  and  was  n't  Mr.  Garland  kind  when  he 
said  to  him,  —  "  Christopher,  here  's  your  money,  and  you 
have  earned  it  well ; "  —  which  praise  in  itself  was  worth  as 
much  as  his  wages. 

Then  the  play  itself!  The  horses  which  little  Jacob  believed 
from  the  first  to  be  alive,  —  and  the  ladies  and  gentlemen,  of 
whose  reality  he  could  be  by  no  means  persuaded,  having  never 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

seen  or  heard  anything  at  all  like  them  —  the  firing,  which  made 
Barbara  (who  had  a  holiday  too)  wink  —  the  forlorn  lady  who 
made  her  cry  —  the  tyrant  who  made  her  tremble  —  the  clown 
who  ventured  on  such  familiarities  with  the  military  man  in 
boots  — the  lady  who  jumped  over  the  nine-and-twenty  ribbons 
and  came  down  safe  upon  the  horse's  back  —  everything  was 
delightful,  splendid,  and  surprising  !  Little  Jacob  applauded 
until  his  hands  were  sore ;  Kit  cried  "  an-kor  "  at  the  end  of 
everything;  and  Barbara's  mother  beat  her  umbrella  on  the 
floor,  in  her  ecstasies,  until  it  was  nearly  worn  down  to  the 
gingham. 

What  was  all  this  though  —  even  all  this  —  to  the  extraor- 
dinary dissipation  that  ensued,  when  Kit,  walking  into  an 
oyster-shop,  as  bold  as  if  he  lived  there,  led  his  party  into  a 
box  —  a  private  box,  fitted  up  with  red  curtains,  white  table- 
cloth, and  cruet-stand  complete  —  and  ordered  a  fierce  gentle- 
man with  whiskers,  who  acted  as  waiter,  and  called  him 
"  Christopher  Nubbles,  sir,"  to  bring  three  dozen  of  his 
largest-size  oysters,  and  look  sharp  about  it !  Then  they  fell 
to  work  upon  the  supper  in  earnest ;  and  ate  and  laughed  and 
enjoyed  themselves  so  thoroughly  that  it  did  Kit  good  to  see 
them,  and  made  him  laugh  and  eat  likewise,  from  strong  sym- 
pathy. But  the  greatest  miracle  of  the  night  was  little  Jacob, 
who  ate  oysters  as  if  he  had  been  born  and  bred  to  the  business. 
There  was  the  baby,  too,  who  sat  as  good  as  gold,  trying  to 
force  a  large  orange  into  his  mouth,  and  gazing  intently  at  the 
lights  in  the  chandelier,  —  there  he  was,  sitting  in  his  mother's 
lap,  and  making  indentations  in  his  soft  visage  with  an  oyster- 
shell,  so  contentedly  that  a  heart  of  iron  must  have  loved  him  ! 
In  short,  there  never  was  a  more  successful  supper  ;  and  when 
Kit  proposed  the  health  of  Mrs.  and  Mr.  Garland,  there  were 
not  six  happier  people  in  the  world.  But  all  happiness  has  an 
end,  and  as  it  was  now  growing  late,  they  agreed  that  it  was 

136 


KIT      NUBBLES 

time  to  turn  their  faces  homeward  —  and  the  great  day  was  at 
an  end. 

One  morning  just  before  this,  when  Kit  was  out  exer- 
cising the  pony,  he  was  called  into  the  office  where  he  had  first 
seen  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garland,  to  be  examined  by  a  strange  gen- 
tleman concerning  what  he  knew  of  little  Nell  and  her  grand- 
father. The  gentleman  told  Kit  that  he  was  trying  by  every 
means  in  his  power  to  discover  their  hiding-place ;  and,  finally, 
after  Kit  had  repeated  all  that  he  could  remember  of  the  life 
and  words  of  his  beloved  Miss  Nelly  and  the  old  man,  the 
stranger  slipped  a  half-crown  into  his  hand  and  dismissed  him. 
The  strange  gentleman  liked  Kit  so  much  that  he  desired  to 
have  him  in  his  own  service,  but  the  boy  stoutly  refused  to 
leave  his  kind  employer.  At  Mr.  Garland's  suggestion,  how- 
ever, he  offered  his  services  to  the  stranger  for  an  hour  or  two 
every  day,  and  from  that  came  trouble  to  Kit. 

Each  day,  going  up  and  down,  to  and  from  the  stranger's 
room,  he  had  to  pass  through  the  office  of  one  Sampson  Brass, 
attorney ;  who,  through  the  agency  of  Quilp,  who  was  Sampson 
Brass's  best  client,  was  prejudiced  against  Kit,  and  pledged  to 
the  little  dwarf  to  do  him  all  the  injury  that  he  could,  for  veno- 
mous little  Quilp  had  never  forgiven  the  boy  who  had  been 
connected  with  his  ruined  client,  and  had  called  him  "  the 
ugliest  dwarf  to  be  seen  for  a  penny  " ;  and  he  desired  ven- 
geance at  any  cost. 

Every  time  that  Kit  passed  through  the  office,  Mr.  Brass 
spoke  kindly  to  him,  and  not  seldom  gave  him  half-crowns, 
which  made  Kit,  who  from  the  first  had  disliked  the  man, 
think  that  he  had  misjudged  him.  Then  one  day  when  Kit 
had  been  minding  the  office  a  few  moments  for  Mr.  Brass, 
and  was  running  towards  home,  in  haste  to  do  his  work  there, 
Mr.  Brass  and  his  clerk,  Dick  Swiveller,  rushed  out  after  him. 

"  Stop  ! "  cried  Sampson,  laying  his  hand  on  one  shoulder, 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

while  Mr.  Swiveller  pounced  upon  the  other.      "  Not  so  fast, 
sir.     You  're  in  a  hurry  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  said  Kit,  looking  from  one  to  the  other  in 
great  surprise. 

"I  —  I  —  can  hardly  believe  it,"  panted  Sampson,  " but 
something  of  value  is  missing  from  the  office.  I  hope  you 
don't  know  what." 

"Know  what!  good  heaven,  Mr.  Brass!"  cried  Kit, 
trembling  from  head  to  foot ;  "  you  don't  suppose  — " 

"  No,  no,"  rejoined  Brass,  quickly,  "  I  don't  suppose  any- 
thing. You  will  come  back  quietly,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  returned  Kit.     "  Why  not  ?  " 

Kit  did  turn  from  white  to  red,  and  from  red  to  white 
again,  when  they  secured  him,  each  by  an  arm,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment he  seemed  disposed  to  resist.  But,-  quickly  recollecting 
himself,  and  remembering  that  if  he  made  any  struggle,  he 
would  perhaps  be  dragged  by  the  collar  through  the  public 
streets,  he  suffered  them  to  lead  him  off. 

"  Now,  you  know,"  said  Brass,  when  they  had  entered  the 
office,  and  locked  the  door,  "  if  this  is  a  case  of  innocence, 
Christopher,  the  fullest  disclosure  is  the  best  satisfaction  for 
everybody.  Therefore,  if  you  '11  consent  to  an  examination,  it 
will  be  a  comfortable  and  pleasant  thing  for  all  parties." 

"  SEARCH  ME"  said  Kit,  proudly,  holding  up  his  arms. 
"  But  mind,  sir,  —  I  know  you  '11  be  sorry  for  this  to  the  last 
day  of  your  life." 

"  It  is  certainly  a  very  painful  occurrence,"  said  Brass, 
with  a  sigh,  but  commencing  the  search  with  vigour.  All  at 
once  an  exclamation  from  Dick  Swiveller  and  Miss  Brass, 
Sampson's  sister,  who  was  also  present,  cut  the  lawyer  short. 
He  turned  his  head,  and  saw  Dick,  who  had  been  holding 
Kit's  hat,  standing  with  the  missing  bank-note  in  his  hand. 

"  In  the  hat  ?  "  cried  Brass,  in  a  sort  of  shriek. 

138 


KIT      NUBBLES 

"  Under  the  handkerchief,  and  tucked  beneath  the  lining"  said 
Mr.  Swiveller,  aghast,  at  the  discovery.  Mr.  Brass  looked  at 
him,  at  his  sister,  at  the  walls,  at  the  ceiling,  at  the  floor, 
everywhere  but  at  Kit,  who  stood  quite  stupefied  .  and  mo- 
tionless. 

Like  one  entranced,  he  stood,  eyes  wide  opened,  and  fixed 
upon  the  ground,  until  the  constable  came,  and  he  found  him- 
self being  driven  away  in  a  coach,  to  the  jail,  where  he  was 
lodged  for  the  night  —  still  dazed  by  the  terrible  change  in 
his  affairs. 

It  was  a  long  night,  but  Kit  slept,  and  dreamed  too  — 
always  of  being  at  liberty.  At  last  the  morning  dawned,  and 
the  turnkey  who  came  to  unlock  his  cell,  and  show  him  where 
to  wash,  told  him  that  there  was  a  regular  time  for  visiting 
every  day,  and  that  if  any  of  his  friends  came  to  see  him,  he 
would  be  fetched  down  to  the  grate,  and  that  he  was  lodged 
apart  from  the  mass  of  prisoners,  because  he  was  not  supposed 
to  be  utterly  depraved  and  irreclaimable.  Kit  was  thankful 
for  this  indulgence,  and  sat  reading  the  Church  Catechism, 
until  the  man  entered  again. 

"  Now  then,"  he  said.     "  Come  on  !  " 

"  Where  to,  sir  ?  "  asked  Kit. 

The  man  contented  himself  by  briefly  replying  "  Wisitors," 
and  led  Kit  down  behind  a  grating,  outside  which,  and  be- 
yond a  railing,  Kit  saw  with  a  palpitating  heart,  his  mother 
with  the  baby  in  her  arms  ;  and  poor  little  Jacob,  who,  when 
he  saw  his  brother,  and  thrusting  his  arms  between  the  rails 
to  hug  him,  found  that  he  came  no  nearer,  began  to  cry  most 
piteously,  whereupon  Kit's  mother  burst  out  sobbing  and 
weeping  afresh.  Poor  Kit  could  not  help  joining  them,  and 
not  a  word  was  spoken  for  some  time. 

"  Oh,  my  darling  Kit ! "  said  his  mother  at  last.  "  That 
I  should  see  my  poor  boy  here  !  " 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES     DICKENS 

"  You  don't  believe  that  I  did  what  they  accuse  me  of, 
mother,  dear  ? "  cried  Kit,  in  a  choking  voice. 

"  I,  believe  it ! "  exclaimed  the  poor  woman.  "  I,  that 
never  knew  you  tell  a  lie  or  do  a  bad  action  from  your  cradle. 
I  believe  it  of  the  son  that  's  been  a  comfort  to  me  from  the 
hour  of  his  birth  until  this  time  !  /  believe  it  of  you,  Kit !  " 

"  Why  then,  thank  God  !  "  said  Kit.  "  Come  what  may, 
I  shall  always  have  one  drop  of  happiness  in  my  heart  when 
I  think  that  you  said  that." 

At  this  the  poor  woman  fell  a-crying  again,  and  soon,  all 
too  soon,  the  turnkey  cried  "  Time 's  up  !  "  and  Kit  was  taken 
off  in  an  instant,  with  a  blessing  from  his  mother  and  a  scream 
from  little  Jacob  ringing  in  his  ears. 

Eight  weary  days  dragged  themselves  along,  and  on  the 
ninth  the  case  of  Christopher  Nubbles  came  up  in  Court ;  and 
the  aforesaid  Christopher  was  called  upon  to  plead  guilty  or 
not  guilty  to  an  indictment  for  that  he,  the  aforesaid  Christo- 
pher, did  feloniously  abstract  and  steal  from  the  dwelling-house 
and  office  of  one  Sampson  Brass,  gentleman,  one  bank-note 
for  five  pounds,  issued  for  Governor  and  Company  of  the 
Bank  of  England. 

By  a  cleverly  worked-up  case  on  his  opponent's  side,  Kit 
is  so  cross-examined  as  to  be  found  guilty  by  the  jury,  and  is 
sentenced  to  be  transported  for  a  term  of  years. 

Kit's  mother,  poor  woman,  is  waiting,  and  when  the  news 
is  told  a  sad  interview  ensues.  "  He  never  did  it  I  "  she  cries. 

"  Well,"  says  the  turnkey,  "  I  won't  contradict  you.  It 's 
all  one  now,  whether  he  did  it  or  not." 

"  Some  friend  will  rise  up  for  us,  mother,"  cried  Kit.  "  I 
am  sure.  If  not  now,  before  long.  My  innocence  will  come 
out,  mother,  and  I  shall  be  brought  back  again,  I  feel  confi- 
dent of  that.  You  must  teach  little  Jacob  and  the  baby  how 
all  this  was,  for  if  they  thought  I  had  ever  been  dishonest, 

140 


KIT     NUBBLES 

when  they  grew  old  enough  to  understand,  it  would  break  my 
heart  to  know  it,  if  I  was  thousands  of  miles  away.  Oh,  is 
there  no  good  gentleman  here  who  will  take  care  of  her ! " 

In  all  Kit's  life  that  was  the  darkest  moment,  when  he 
saw  his  mother  led  away,  half  fainting,  and  heard  the  grating 
of  his  cell  door  as  he  entered  —  entangled  in  a  network  of 
false  evidence  and  treachery  from  which  there  seemed  no  way 
of  escape. 

Meanwhile,  however,  while  Kit  was  being  found  guilty,  a 
young  servant  in  the  employ  of  the  Brasses  was  also  guilty 
of  listening  at  keyholes,  listening  to  a  conversation  which  was 
not  intended  for  her  ears,  in  which  she  heard  the  entire  plot 
by  which  Mr.  Brass  had  entrapped  and  condemned  Kit. 
How  he  had  himself  placed  the  money  in  Kit's  hat  while  it 
lay  upon  the  office  table ;  and  how  the  whole  plan  had  been 
successful.  The  small  servant,  friendly  to  Kit,  and  hating  her 
employers,  lost  no  time  in  repeating  what  she  had  heard  to 
Mr.  Garfand,  and  he,  the  notary,  and  the  strange  gentleman, 
after  carefully  arranging  their  plan,  confronted  the  Brasses 
with  evidence  of  their  guilt  so  overwhelmingly  true,  that  they 
could  do  nothing  but  confess  their  crime,  and  Kit's  innocence, 
while  Mr.  Garland  hastened  to  him  with  the  glad  news  of  his 
freedom. 

Lighted  rooms,  bright  fires,  cheerful  faces,  the  music  of 
glad  voices,  words  of  love  and  welcome,  warm  hearts  and  tears 
of  happiness  —  what  a  change  is  this!  But  it  is  to  such  de- 
lights that  Kit  is  hastening.  They  are  awaiting  him,  he 
knows.  He  fears  he  will  die  of  joy  before  he  gets  among 
them. 

When  they  are  drawing  near  their  journey's  end  he  begs 
they  may  go  more  slowly,  and  when  the  house  appears  in 
sight  that  they  may  stop,  —  only  for  a  minute  or  two,  to  give 
him  time  to  breathe. 

141 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

But  there  is  no  stopping  then,  for  they  are  already  at  the 
garden  gate.  Next  minute  they  are  at  the  door.  There  is  a 
noise  of  tongues  and  a  tread  of  feet  inside.  It  opens.  Kit 
rushes  in  and  finds  his  mother  clinging  round  his  neck.  And 
there  is  Mrs.  Garland,  neater  and  nicer  than  ever,  fainting 
away  stone  dead  with  nobody  to  help  her ;  and  there  is  Mr. 
Abel  violently  blowing  his  nose  and  wanting  to  embrace 
everybody ;  and  there  is  the  strange  gentleman  hovering 
round  them  all,  and  there  is  that  good,  dear  little  Jacob  sitting 
all  alone  by  himself  on  the  bottom  stair,  with  his  hands  on 
his  knees,  like  an  old  man,  roaring  fearfully  without  giving 
any  trouble  to  anybody ;  and  each  and  all  of  them  are  for  the 
time  clean  out  of  their  wits. 

Well !  In  the  next  room  there  are  decanters  of  wine,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing  set  out  as  grand  as  if  Kit  and  his  friends 
were  first-rate  company ;  and  there  is  little  Jacob  walking, 
as  the  popular  phrase  is,  into  a  home-made  plum  cake  at 
a  most  surprising  rate,  and  keeping  his  eye  on  the  figs 
and  oranges  which  are  to  follow. 

Kit  no  sooner  comes  in  than  the  strange  gentleman  drinks 
his  health,  and  tells  him  he  shall  never  want  a  friend  as  long  as 
he  lives,  and  so  does  Mr.  Garland,  and  so  does  Mrs.  Garland, 
and  so  does  Mr.  Abel.  But  even  this  honour  and  distinction 
is  not  all,  for  the  strange  gentleman  forthwith  pulls  out  of 
his  pocket  a  massive  silver  watch  —  and  upon  the  back  of 
this  watch  is  engraved  Kit's  name  with  flourishes  all  over  — 
and  in  short  it  is  Kit's  watch,  bought  expressly  for  him.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Garland  can't  help  hinting  about  their  present, 
in  store,  and  Mr.  Abel  tells  outright  that  he  has  his ;  and 
Kit  is  the  happiest  of  the  happy. 

There  is  one  friend  that  Kit  has  not  seen  yet,  and  he  takes 
the  first  opportunity  of  slipping  away  and  hurrying  to  the 
stable,  and  when  Kit  goes  up  to  caress  and  pat  him,  the  pony 

142 


KIT     NUBBLES 

rubs  his  nose  against  his  coat  and  fondles  him  more  lovingly 
than  ever  pony  fondled  man.  It  is  the  crowning  circum- 
stance of  his  earnest,  heartfelt  reception ;  and  Kit  fairly  puts 
his  arm  round  Whisker's  neck  and  hugs  him. 

Happy  Christopher! — the  darkest  days  of  his  life  are 
past  —  the  brightest  are  yet  to  be.  Let  us  wish  him  all  joy 
and  prosperity  and  leave  him  on  the  threshold  of  manhood  ! 


JO,    THE    CROSSING    SWEEPER 


Jo,  THE  CROSSING  SWEEPER. 


JO,  THE  CROSSING  SWEEPER 


JO  lives  in  a  ruinous  place,  known  to  the  likes  of  him  by 
the  name  of  Tom-all-Alone's.  It  is  a  black  dilapidated 
street,  avoided  by  all  decent  people;  where  the  crazy 
houses  were  seized  upon  when  their  decay  was  far 
advanced,  by  some  bold  vagrants,  who,  after  establishing  their 
possession,  took  to  letting  them  out  in  lodgings. 

Jo  sweeps  his  crossing  all  day  long,  and  if  he  is  asked 
a  question  he  replies  that  he  "  don't  know  nothink."  He 
knows  that  it's  hard  to  keep  the  mud  off  the  crossing  in 
dirty  weather,  and  harder  still  to  live  by  doing  it.  Nobody 
taught  him  that  much  —  he  found  it  out. 

Indeed,  everything  poor  Jo  knows  he  has  had  to  find  out 
for  himself,  for  no  one  has  even  taken  the  trouble  to  tell  him 
his  real  name. 

It  must  be  a  strange  state  to  be  like  Jo,  not  to  know  the 
feeling  of  a  whole  suit  of  clothes  —  to  wear  even  in  summer 
the  same  queer  remnant  of  a  fur  cap ;  to  be  always  dirty  and 
ragged ;  to  shuffle  through  the  streets,  unfamiliar  with  the 
shapes,  and  in  utter  darkness  as  to  the  meaning,  of  those 
mysterious  symbols  so  abundant  over  the  doors  and  at 
corners  of  the  streets,  and  on  the  doors  and  in  the  windows. 
To  see  people  read,  and  to  see  people  write,  and  to  see 
the  postman  deliver  letters,  and  not  to  have  the  least  idea  of 
all  that  language,  —  to  be  to  all  of  it  stone  blind  and  dumb. 

It  must  be  very  puzzling  to  be  hustled  and  jostled,  and 
moved  on,  and  to  really  feel  that  I  have  no  business  here  or 
there  or  anywhere ;  and  yet  to  be  perplexed  by  the  considera- 

M7 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

tion  that  I  am  here  somehow,  too,  and  everybody  overlooked 
me  until  I  became  the  creature  that  I  am. 

One  cold  winter  night  when  Jo  was  shivering  near  his 
crossing,  a  stranger  passed  him  ;  turned,  looked  at  him  in- 
tently, then  came  back  and  began  to  ask  him  questions  from 
which  he  found  out  that  Jo  had  not  a  friend  in  the  world. 

"  Neither  have  I,  not  one,"  added  the  man,  and  gave  him 
the  price  of  a  supper  and  lodging.  And  from  that  day  Jo  was 
no  longer  friendless,  for  the  stranger  often  spoke  to  him,  and 
asked  him  whether  he  slept  sound  at  night,  and  how  he  bore 
cold  and  hunger ;  and  whether  he  ever  wished  to  die ;  and 
other  strange  questions.  Then  when  the  man  had  no  money 
he  would  say,  "  I  am  as  poor  as  you  to-day,  Jo,"  but  when  he 
had  any  he  always  shared  it  with  Jo. 

But  there  came  a  time  not  long  after  this,  when  the 
stranger  was  found  dead  in  his  bed,  in  the  house  of  Crook,  the 
rag-and-bottle  merchant,  where  he  had  lodgings  ;  and  nothing 
could  be  found  out  about  his  life  or  the  reason  for  his  sudden 
death.  So  a  jury  had  to  be  brought  together  to  ferret  out  the 
mystery,  if  possible,  and  to  discover  whether  the  man's  death 
was  accidental  or  whether  he  died  by  his  own  hand.  No  one 
knew  him,  and  he  had  never  been  seen  talking  to  a  human 
soul  except  the  boy  that  swept  the  crossing,  down  the  lane 
over  the  way,  round  the  corner,  —  otherwise  Jo. 

So  Jo  was  called  in  as  a  witness  at  the  inquest.  Says  the 
coroner,  "Is  that  boy  here  ?  " 

Says  the  beadle,  "  No,  sir,  he  is  not  here." 

Says  the  coroner,  "  Go  and  fetch  him  then." 

"  Oh,  here  's  the  boy,  gentlemen  !  " 

Here  he  is,  very  muddy,  very  hoarse,  very  ragged.  No\* . 
boy  !  But  stop  a  minute.  Caution.  This  boy  must  be  put 
through  a  few  preliminary  paces. 

Name  Jo.  Nothink  else  that  he  knows  on.  Don't  know 

148 


JO,    THE    CROSSING    SWEEPER 

that  everybody  has  two  names.  Don't  know  that  Jo  is  short 
for  a  longer  name.  Thinks  it  long  enough  for  him.  Spell  it  ? 
•No.  He  can't  spell  it.  No  father,  no  mother,  no  friends. 
Never  been  to  school.  What 's  home  ?  Knows  a  broom  's  a 
broom,  and  knows  it 's  wicked  to  tell  a  lie.  Don't  recollect 
who  told  him  about  the  broom  or  about  the  lie,  but  knows 
both.  Can't  exactly  say  what '11  be  done  to  him  after  he's 
dead  if  he  tells  a  lie  to  the  gentleman  here,  but  believes  it  '11 
be  something  wery  bad  to  punish  him,  and  so  he  '11  tell  the 
truth.  "  He  wos  wery  good  to  me,  he  wos,"  added  the  boy, 
wiping  his  eyes  with  his  wretched  sleeves.  "  When  I  see 
him  a-laying  so  stritched  out  just  now,  I  wished  he  could 
have  heerd  me  tell  him  so.  He  wos  wery  good  to  me,  he 
wos." 

The  jury  award  their  verdict  of  accidental  death,  and  the 
stranger  is  hurried  into  a  pine  box  and  into  an  obscure  corner 
of  that  great  home  for  the  friendless  and  unmourned,  —  the 
Potter's  field,  —  and  night  falls,  hiding  from  sight  the  new- 
made  grave. 

With  the  night  comes  a  slouching  figure  through  the  tunnel 
court,  to  the  outside  of  the  iron  gate  of  the  Potter's  field.  It 
holds  the  gate  with  its  hands,  and  looks  in  between  the  bars. 
Stands  looking  in  for  a  little  while.  It  then  takes  an  old 
broom  it  carries,  softly  sweeps  the  step,  and  makes  the  arch- 
way clean.  It  does  so  very  busily  and  trimly  ;  looks  in  again 
a  little  while,  and  so  departs. 

Jo,  is  it  thou  ?     Well,  well  ? 

Though  thou  art  neither  a  gentleman  nor  the  son  of  a  gen- 
tleman, there  is  an  expression  of  gratitude  and  of  loyalty, 
worthy  of  gentle  blood,  indicative  of  noble  character,  in  thy 
muttered  reason  for  this  :  — 

"  He  wos  wery  good  to  me,  he  wos." 

Once  more  without  a  friend,  Jo  sweeps  his  crossing  day 

149 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

after  day.  Before  the  stranger  came  into  his  life,  he  had 
drifted  along  in  his  accustomed  place,  more  unreasoning  than 
an  intelligent  dog ;  but  the  hand  of  a  human  comrade  had  been 
laid  in  his,  and  it  had  awakened  his  humanity ;  and  now  as  he 
sweeps  he  thinks  —  about  the  stranger  —  wonders  where  he 
has  gone  to,  and  how  he  died. 

As  it  seemed  to  Jo  that  the  world  was  bounded  on  all  sides 
by  the  events  in  Tom-all-Alone's,  he  was  not  at  all  surprised 
one  day  to  have  another  stranger  come  to  his  crossing  and  ask 
him  many  questions  concerning  the  dead  man.  He  was  glad 
to  talk  of  him,  to  tell  again  all  that  he  knew  of  his  life  and 
death,  and  to  show  where  they  had  buried  him.  The  inter- 
view over,  Jo  is  overwhelmed  to  find  his  hand  closed  over  a 
piece  of  money  larger  than  he  has  ever  owned  before. 

His  first  proceeding  is  to  hold  the  piece  of  money  to  the  gas- 
light, and  to  be  overpowered  at  finding  that  it  is  yellow  gold. 
His  next  is  to  give  it  a  one-sided  bite  at  the  edge,  as  a  test  of 
its  quality.  His  next,  to  put  it  in  his  mouth  for  safety,  and  to 
sweep  the  step  and  passage  with  great  care.  His  job  done,  he 
sets  off  for  Tom-all-Alone's,  stopping  in  the  light  of  innumer- 
able gas-lamps  to  produce  the  piece  of  gold,  and  give  it  another 
one-sided  bite  as  a  reassurance  of  its  being  genuine  ;  and  then 
shufBes  off,  back  to  his  crossing  ;  little  dreaming  —  poor  Jo  !  — 
that  because  of  his  presence  at  the  inquest,  and  because  of  this 
interview,  the  rest  of  his  existence  is  to  be  even  more  wretched 
than  his  past  has  been.  He  little  dreams  that  persons  great 
and  powerful  in  the  outer  world  were  connected  with  the  secret 
of  his  friend's  life  and  death ;  but  it  is  even  so,  and  those  who 
fear  to  have  anything  brought  to  light  concerning  him,  hire 
officers  to  hunt  Jo  away  from  Tom-all-Alone's,  —  the  only 
home  he  has  ever  known,  —  to  keep  him  as  far  out  of  reach  as 
possible,  because  he  knew  more  about  the  stranger  than  any 
one  else.  He  does  not  understand  it  at  all,  but  from  that 

150 


JO,    THE    CROSSING    SWEEPER 

minute  there  seems  always  to  be  an  officer  in  sight  telling  him 
to  "  move  on." 

At  a  summons  to  his  shop  one  day,  Mr.  Snagsby,  the 
law-stationer  (in  whose  employ  the  dead  man  was,  and  who 
has  always  been  kind  to  Jo  when  chance  has  thrown  him  in 
his  way),  descends  to  find  a  police  constable  holding  a  ragged 
boy  by  the  arm.  "  Why,  bless  my  heart,"  says  Mr.  Snagsby, 
"  what 's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  This  boy,"  says  the  constable,  calmly,  "  although  he  's 
repeatedly  told  to,  won't  move  on." 

"  I  'm  always  a-moving  on,  sir,"  cries  the  boy,  wiping  away 
his  grimy  tears  with  his  arm.  "  Where  can  I  possibly  move 
to  more  nor  I  do?  " 

"  Don't  you  come  none  of  that,  or  I  shall  make  blessed 
short  work  of  you,"  says  the  constable,  giving  him  a  passion- 
less shake.  "  My  instructions  are  that  you  are  to  move  on." 

"  But  where  ?  "  cries  the  boy. 

"  Well,  really,  constable,  you  know,"  says  Mr.  Snagsby, 
"  really  that  does  seem  a  question.  Where,  you  know  ? " 

"  My  instructions  don't  go  to  that,"  replies  the  constable. 
"  My  instructions  are  that  this  boy  is  to  move  on,  and  the 
sooner  you  're  five  miles  away  the  better  for  all  parties." 

Jo  shuffles  away  from  the  spot  where  he  has  been  standing, 
picking  bits  of  fur  from  his  cap  and  putting  them  in  his  mouth ; 
but  before  he  goes  Mr.  Snagsby  loads  him  with  some  broken 
meats  from  the  table,  which  he  carries  away  hugging  in  his 
arms. 

Jo  goes  on,  down  to  Blackfriars  Bridge,  where  he  finds  a 
baking  stony  corner  wherein  to  settle  his  repast.  There  he 
sits  munching  and  gnawing  —  the  sun  going  down,  the  river 
running  fast,  the  crowd  flowing  by  him  in  two  streams  — 
everything  passing  on  to  some  purpose,  and  to  one  end, 
until  he  is  stirred  up,  and  told  to  move  on  again. 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

Desperate  with  being  moved  on  so  many  times,  Jo  tramps 
out  of  London  down  to  St.  Albans,  where,  exhausted  from 
hunger  and  from  exposure  to  extreme  cold,  he  takes  refuge  in 
the  cottage  of  a  bricklayer's  wife.  A  young  lady  who  happens 
to  be  making  a  charity  call  on  the  woman  in  the  cottage  —  sees 
his  feverish,  excited  condition,  and  questions  him. 

"  I  am  a-being  froze,"  said  the  boy  hoarsely,  with  his  hag- 
gard gaze  wandering  about.  "  And  then  burnt  up,  and  then 
froze,  and  then  burnt  up,  ever  so  many  times  in  an  hour,  and 
my  head  's  all  sleepy,  and  all  a-going  mad  like  —  I  'm  so  dry 
—  and  my  bones  isn't  half  as  much  bones  as  pains." 

"  When  did  he  come  from  London  ? "  the  young  lady 
asked. 

"  I  come  from  London  yesterday,"  said  the  boy  himself, 
now  flushed  and  hot.  "  I  'm  a-going  somewheres.  Some- 
wheres,"  he  repeated  in  a  louder  tone.  "  I  have  been 
moved  on  and  moved  on,  more  nor  I  wos  afore.  Mrs. 
Snagsby,  she 's  allus  a-watching  and  a-driving  of  me.  What 
have  I  done  to  her  ?  And  they  're  all  a-watching  and  a- 
driving  of  me.  Everyone  of  them's  doing  of  it  from  the 
time  when  I  don't  get  up  to  the  time  when  I  don't  go  to 
bed.  And  I 'm  a-going  somewheres,  that's  where  I'm 
a-going ! " 

So  in  an  oblivious  half-insensible  way  he  shuffled  out  of 
the  house.  The  young  lady  hurried  after  him,  and  presently 
came  up  with  him.  He  must  have  begun  his  journey  with 
some  small  bundle  under  his  arm,  and  must  have  lost  it  or  had 
it  stolen,  for  he  still  carried  his  wretched  fragment  of  a  fur  cap 
like  a  bundle,  though  he  went  bareheaded  through  the  rain, 
which  now  fell  fast. 

He  stopped  when  she  called  him,  standing  with  his  lustrous 
eyes  fixed  on  her,  and  even  arrested  in  his  shivering  fit.  She 
urged  him  to  go  with  her,  and  though  at  first  he  shook  his 

152 


JO,    THE    CROSSING    SWEEPER 

head,  at  last  he  turned  and  followed  her.  She  led  the  way  to 
her  home,  where  the  servants,  sorry  for  his  pitiable  condition, 
made  a  bed  for  him  in  a  warm  loft-room  by  the  stable,  where 
he  was  safely  housed  for  the  night  and  cared  for. 

The  next  morning  the  young  lady  was  awakened  at  an  early 
hour  by  an  unusual  noise  outside  her  window,  and  called  out  to 
one  of  the  men  to  know  the  meaning  of  it. 

"  It's  the  boy,  miss,"  said  he. 

"  Is  he  worse  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Gone,  miss  !  " 

«  Dead  ? " 

"  Dead,  miss  ?     No.     Gone  clean  off!  " 

At  what  time  of  the  night  he  had  gone,  or  how  or  why,  it 
seemed  hopeless  ever  to  divine.  Every  possible  inquiry  was 
made,  and  every  place  searched.  The  brick-kilns  were  ex- 
amined, the  cottages  were  visited,  the  woman  was  particularly 
questioned,  but  she  knew  nothing  of  him ;  the  weather  had 
been  for  some  time  too  wet,  and  the  night  itself  had  been  too 
wet,  to  admit  of  any  tracing  of  footsteps.  Hedge  and  ditch, 
and  wall  and  rick,  and  stack  were  examined  for  a  long  distance 
round,  lest  the  boy  should  be  lying  in  such  a  place  insensible 
or  dead ;  but  nothing  was  seen  to  indicate  that  he  had  ever 
been  near.  From  the  time  when  he  left  the  loft-room  he 
vanished,  and  after  five  days  the  search  was  given  up  as  hope- 
less. Where  had  poor  Jo  moved  on  to  now  ? 

For  some  time  it  seemed  that  no  one  would  ever  know,  but 
at  last,  not  so  very  long  after  this,  a  physician,  Allan  Wood- 
court  by  name  —  who  had  known  something  of  Jo  and  his 
story  —  was  wandering  at  night  in  the  miserable  streets  of 
Tom-all-Alone's,  impelled  by  curiosity  to  see  its  haunts  by 
gas-light.  After  stopping  to  offer  assistance  to  a  woman 
sitting  on  a  doorstep,  who  had  evidently  come  a  long  distance, 
he  walks  away,  and  as  he  does  so  he  sees  a  ragged  figure 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

coming  very  cautiously  along,  crouching  close  to  the  walls. 
It  is  the  figure  of  a  youth  whose  face  is  hollow,  and  whose 
eyes  have  an  emaciated  glare.  He  is  so  intent  on  getting 
along  unseen,  that  even  the  apparition  of  a  stranger  in  whole 
garments  does  not  tempt  him  to  look  back.  Allan  Woodcourt 
pauses  to  look  after  him,  with  a  shadowy  belief  that  he  has 
seen  the  boy  before.  He  cannot  recall  how  or  where,  but 
there  is  some  association  in  his  mind  with  such  a  form. 

He  is  gradually  emerging  from  Tom-all-Alone's  in  the 
morning  light,  thinking  about  it,  when  he  hears  running  feet 
behind  him,  and,  looking  around,  sees  the  boy  scouring  toward 
him  at  a  great  speed,  followed  by  the  woman. 

"  Stop  him !  stop  him !  "  cries  the  woman  ;  "stop  him,  sir  ! " 

Allan,  not  knowing  but  that  he  has  just  robbed  her  of  her 
money,  follows  in  chase,  and  runs  so  hard  that  he  runs  the 
boy  down  a  dozen  times  ;  but  each  time  the  boy  makes  a 
curve,  ducks,  dives  under  his  hands,  and  scours  away 
again.  At  last  the  fugitive,  hard  pressed,  takes  to  a  narrow 
passage  which  has  no  thoroughfare.  Here  he  is  brought 
to  bay,  and  tumbles  down,  lying  down  gasping  at  his  pursuer 
until  the  woman  comes  up. 

"  Oh  you  Jo,"  cries  the  woman,  "  what,  I  have  found  you 
at  last ! " 

"  Jo  ? "  repeats  Allan,  looking  at  him  with  attention,  — 
"  Jo  ?  Stay  —  to  be  sure,  I  recollect  this  lad,  some  time  ago, 
being  brought  before  the  coroner !  " 

"  Yes,  I  see  you  once  afore  at  the  Inkwich,"  whimpered 
the  boy.  "What  of  that?  Can't  you  never  let  such  an 
unfortnet  as  me  alone  ?  An 't  I  unfortnet  enough  for  you 
yet  ?  How  unfortnet  do  you  want  me  for  to  be  ?  I  've  been 
a-chivied  and  a-chivied,  fust  by  one  on  you  and  nixt  by 
another  on  you,  till  I  'm  worritted  to  skins  and  bones.  The 
Inkwich  war  n't  my  fault ;  I  done  nothink.  He  wos  very 

'54 


JO,    THE    CROSSING    SWEEPER 

good  to  me  he  wos ;  he  wos  the  only  one  I  knowed  to  speak 
to  me  as  ever  come  across  my  crossing.  It  ain't  very  likely 
I  should  want  him  to  be  Inkwich'd.  I  only  wish  I  wos 
myself!" 

He  says  it  with  such  a  pitiable  air  that  Allan  Woodcourt 
is  softened  toward  him.  He  says  to  the  woman,  "  What  has 
he  done?"  —  to  which  she  only  replies,  shaking  her  head, — 

"  Oh  you  Jo  !  you  Jo  !     I  have  found  you  at  last !  " 

"What  has  he  done?"  says  Allan.  "Has  he  robbed 
you?" 

"No,  sir,  no.  Robbed  me?  He  did  nothing  but  what 
was  kind-hearted  by  me,  and  that 's  the  wonder  of  it.  But  he 
was  along  with  me,  sir,  down  at  St.  Albans,  ill,  and  a  young 
lady  —  Lord  bless  her  for  a  good  friend  to  me  !  —  took  pity 
on  him  and  took  him  home  —  took  him  home  and  made  him 
comfortable;  and  like  a  thankless  monster  he  ran  away  in  the 
night  and  never  has  been  seen  or  heard  from  since,  till  I  set 
eyes  on  him  just  now.  And  the  young  lady,  that  was  such 
a  pretty  dear,  caught  his  illness,  lost  her  beautiful  looks, 
and  would  n't  hardly  be  known  for  the  same  young  lady  now. 
Do  you  know  it?  You  ungrateful  wretch,  do  you  know 
that  this  is  all  along  of  her  goodness  to  you  ?  "  demands  the 
woman. 

The  boy,  stunned  by  what  he  hears,  falls  to  smearing  his 
dirty  forehead  with  his  dirty  palm,  and  to  staring  at  the  ground, 
and  to  shaking  from  head  to  foot. 

"  You  hear  what  she  says ! "  Allan  says  to  Joe.  "  You 
hear  what  she  says,  and  I  know  it 's  true.  Have  you  been 
here  ever  since  ?  " 

"  Wishermaydie  if  I  seen  Tom-all-Alone's  till  this  blessed 
morning,"  replies  Jo,  hoarsely. 

"  Why  have  you  come  here  now  ?  " 

Jo  looks  all  around  and  finally  answers,  "  I  don't  know 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

how  to  do  nothink  and  I  can't  get  nothink  to  do.  I  'm  very 
poor  and  ill  and  I  thought  I  'd  come  back  here  when  there  war  n't 
nobody  about  and  lay  down  and  hide  somewheres  as  I  knows 
on  till  arter  dark,  and  then  go  and  beg  a  trifle  of  Mr.  Snagsby. 
He  wos  allus  willing  fur  to  give  me  something,  he  wos,  though 
Mrs.  Snagsby,  she  wos  allus  a-chivying  me  —  like  everybody 
everywheres." 

"Now,  tell  me,"  proceeds  Allan,  "tell  me  how  it  came 
about  that  you  left  that  house  when  the  good  young  lady  had 
been  so  unfortunate  as  to  pity  you  and  take  you  home  ? " 

Jo  suddenly  came  out  of  his  resignation,  and  excitedly 
declares  that  he  never  known  about  the  young  lady  ;  that  he 
would  sooner  have  hurt  his  own  self,  and  that  he  'd  sooner 
have  had  his  unfortnet  head  chopped  off  than  ever  gone  a-nigh 
her ;  and  that  she  wos  wery  good  to  him  she  wos. 

Allan  Woodcourt  sees  that  this  is  not  a  sham. 

"  Come,  Jo,  tell  me,"  he  urged. 

"  No,  I  durst  n't,"  says  Jo.     "  I  durst  n't  or  I  would." 

"  But  I  must  know,"  returns  Allan,  "  all  the  same.  Come, 
Jo!" 

After  two  or  three  such  adjurations,  Jo  lifts  up  his  head 
again,  and  says  in  a  low  voice,  "  Well,  I  '11  tell  you  something. 
I  was  took  away.  There  !  " 

"  Taken  away  ?  —  In  the  night  ?  " 

Ah  !  rery  apprehensive  of  being  overheard,  Jo  looks  about 
him,  and  even  glances  up  some  ten  feet  at  the  top  of  the  board- 
ing, and  through  the  cracks  in  it,  lest  the  object  of  his  distrust 
should  be  looking  over,  or  hidden  on  the  other  side. 

"  Who  took  you  away  ?  " 

"  I  durst  n't  name  him,"  says  Jo.    "  I  durst  n't  do  it,  sir." 

"  But  I  want,  in  the  young  lady's  name,  to  know.  You 
may  trust  me.  No  one  else  shall  hear." 

"  Ah,  but  I  don't  know,"  replies  Jo,  shaking  his  head  fear- 

156 


JO,    THE    CROSSING    SWEEPER 

fully,  "  as  he  don't  hear.  He  's  in  all  manner  of  places  all  at 
wunst." 

Allan  looks  at  him  in  perplexity,  but  discovers  some  real 
meaning  at  the  bottom  of  this  bewildering  reply.  He  patiently 
awaits  an  explicit  answer,  and  Jo,  more  baffled  by  his  patience 
than  by  anything  else,  at  last  desperately  whispers  a  name  in 
his  ear. 

"  Aye,"  says  Allan.     "  Why,  what  had  you  been  doing  ?  " 

"  Nothink,  sir.  Never  done  nothink  to  get  myself  into 
no  trouble  'cept  in  not  moving  on,  and  the  Inkwich.  But  I  'm 
moving  on  now.  I'm  moving  on  to  the  berryin'-ground — 
that 's  the  move  as  I  'm  up  to." 

"  No,  no.  We  will  try  to  prevent  that.  But  what  did  he 
do  with  you  ?  " 

"  Put  me  in  a  horspittle,"  replies  Jo,  whispering,  "  till  I 
wor  discharged,  then  gave  me  a  little  money.  *  Nobody  wants 
you  here,'  he  ses.  f  You  go  and  tramp,'  he  ses.  *  You  move 
on,'  he  ses.  '  Don't  let  me  ever  see  you  nowheres  within  forty 
mile  of  London,  or  you  '11  repent  it.'  So  I  shall  if  ever  he 
does  see  me,  and  he  '11  see  me  if  I  'm  above  ground,"  con- 
cludes Jo. 

Allan  considers  a  little,  then  remarks,  turning  to  the 
woman,  "  He  is  not  so  ungrateful  as  you  supposed.  He  had 
a  reason  for  going  away,  though  it  was  an  insufficient  one." 

"  Thank  'ee,  sir,  thank  'ee !  "  exclaims  Jo.  "  There,  now, 
see  how  hard  you  was  on  me.  But  on'y  you  tell  the  young 
lady  wot  the  genlmn  ses,  and  it 's  all  right.  For  you  wos  wery 
good  to  me,  too,  and  I  knows  it." 

"  Now,  Jo,"  says  Allan,  "  come  with  me  and  I  will  find 
you  a  better  place  than  this  to  lie  down  and  hide  in." 

And  Jo,  repeating,  "On'y  you  tell  the  young  lady  as  I 
never  went  for  to  hurt  her,  and  what  the  genlmn  ses,"  nods 
and  shambles  and  shivers  and  smears  and  blinks,  and  half- 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES     DICKENS 

laughs  and  half-cries  a  farewell  to  the  woman,  and  takes  his 
creeping  way  after  Allan  Woodcourt. 

In  a  quiet,  decent  place,  among  people  whom  he  knows 
will  only  treat  the  boy  with  kindness,  Allan  finds  Jo  a  room. 

"  Look  here,  Jo,"  says  Allan,  "  this  is  Mr.  George.  He 
is  a  kind  friend  to  you,  for  he  is  going  to  give  you  a  lodging 
here.  You  are  quite  safe  here.  All  you  have  to  do  at  pres- 
ent is  to  be  obedient,  and  to  get  strong ;  and  mind  you  tell  us 
the  truth  here,  whatever  you  do,  Jo." 

"  Wishermaydie  if  I  don't,  sir,"  says  Jo,  reverting  to  his 
favourite  declaration.  "  I  never  done  nothink  yet  but  wot  you 
knows  on  to  get  myself  into  no  trouble.  I  never  wos  in  no 
other  trouble  at  all,  sir,  'cept  not  knowing  nothink  and  star- 
wation." 

"  I  believe  it,"  said  Allan  ;  "  and  now  you  must  lie  down 
and  rest." 

"  Let  me  lay  here  quiet,  and  not  be  chivied  any  more," 
falters  Jo,  after  he  has  been  assisted  to  his  bed  and  given  med- 
icine ;  "  and  be  so  kind  any  person  as  is  a-passing  nigh  where 
I  used  fur  to  sweep,  as  to  say  to  Mr.  Snagsby  that  Jo,  wot 
he  knowed  wunst,  is  a-movin'  on  right  forards  with  his  duty, 
and  I  '11  be  wery  thankful  ! " 

At  the  boy's  request,  later,  Mr.  Snagsby  is  sent  for,  and  Jo 
is  very  glad  to  see  his  old  friend,  and  says  when  they  are  alone 
that  he  "  takes  it  uncommon  kind  as  Mr.  Snagsby  should  come 
so  far  out  of  his  way  on  account  of  sich  as  him." 

"  Mr.  Snagsby,"  says  Jo,  "  I  went  and  give  an  illness  to  a 
lady,  and  none  of  'em  never  says  nothink  to  me  for  having 
done  it,  on  account  of  their  being  so.  good  and  my  having  been 
so  unfortnet.  The  lady  come  herself  and  see  me  yes'day,  and 
she  ses,  f  Jo,'  she  ses,  c  we  thought  we  'd  lost  you,  Jo/  she  ses  ; 
and  she  sits  down  a-smilin'  so  quiet,  and  don't  pass  a  word  nor 
yit  a  look  upon  me  for  having  done  it,  she  don't ;  and  I  turns 

158 


JO,    THE    CROSSING    SWEEPER 

agin  the  wall,  I  doos,  Mr.  Snagsby.  And  Mr.  Woodcot,  he 
come  to  give  me  somethink  to  ease  me,  wot  he  's  allus  a-doing 
on  day  and  night,  and  wen  he  come  over  me  and  a-speakin'  up 
so  bold,  I  see  his  tears  a-fallin',  Mr.  Snagsby." 

After  this,  Jo  lies  in  a  stupor  most  of  the  time,  and  Allan 
Woodcourt,  coming  in  a  little  later,  stands  looking  down  on 
the  wasted  form,  thinking  of  the  thousands  of  strong,  merry 
boys  to  whom  the  story  of  Jo's  life  would  sound  incredible. 
As  he  stands  there,  Jo  rouses  with  a  start. 

"Well,  Jo,  what  is  the  matter?     Don't  be  frightened." 

"  I  thought,"  says  Jo,  who  had  stared  and  is  looking 
around,  "  I  thought  I  wos  in  Tom-all-Alone's  again.  Ain't 
there  nobody  here  but  you,  Mr.  Woodcot  ? " 

"  Nobody." 

"  And  I  ain't  took  back  to  Tom-all-Alone's.     Am  I,  sir  ?  " 

"  No." 

Jo  closes  his  eyes,  muttering,  "  I  'm  wery  thankful  !  " 

After  watching  him  closely  for  a  little  while,  Allan  puts  his 
mouth  very  near  his  ear,  and  says  to  him  in  a  low,  distinct 
voice : 

"  Jo,  did  you  ever  know  a  prayer  ? " 

"  Never  knowed  nothink,  sir  !  " 

"  Not  so  much  as  one  short  prayer  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  Nothink  at  all,  sir.  Mr.  Chadbands  he  wos 
a-praying  wunst  at  Mr.  Snagsby's,  and  I  heerd  him,  but  he 
sounded  as  if  he  wos  a-speaking  to  hisself  and  not  to  me.  He 
prayed  a  lot,  but  I  could  n't  make  out  nothink  on  it.  I  never 
knowed  wot  it  wos  all  about." 

It  takes  him  a  long  time  to  say  this,  and  few  but  an  ex- 
perienced and  attentive  listener  could  hear,  or  hearing  under- 
stand him.  After  a  short  relapse  into  sleep  or  a  stupor  he 
makes  of  a  sudden  a  strong  effort  to  get  out  of  bed. 

"  Stay,  Jo,  what  now  ?  " 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

"  It's  time  for  me  to  go  to  that  there  berrying-ground,  sir," 
he  returned  with  a  wild  look. 

"  Lie  down  and  tell  me  what  burying-ground,  Jo." 

"  Where  they  laid  him  as  wos  wery  good  to  me ;  wery  good 
to  me  indeed  he  wos !  It 's  time  for  me  to  go  down  to  that 
there  berrying-ground  and  ask  to  be  put  along  with  him.  I 
wants  to  go  there  and  be  berried.  He  used  fur  to  say  to  me, 
( 1  am  as  poor  as  you  to-day,  Jo,'  he  says.  I  wants  to  tell  him 
that  I  am  as  poor  as  him  now,  and  have  come  there  to  be  laid 
along  with  him." 

"  By-and-by,  Jo,  by-and-by." 

"  Ah  !  P  'raps  they  would  n't  do  it  if  I  wos  to  go  myself. 
But  will  you  promise  to  have  me  took  there,  sir,  and  laid  along 
with  him  ? " 

"I  will,  indeed!" 

"  Thank  'ee,  sir.  Thank  'ee,  sir.  They  '11  have  to  get  the 
key  of  the  gate  afore  they  can  take  me  in,  for  it 's  always  locked. 
And  there  's  a  step  there  as  I  used  fur  to  clean  with  my  broom. 
It 's  turned  very  dark,  sir.  Is  there  any  light  a-coming  ?  " 

"  It  is  coming  fast,  Jo,  my  poor  fellow." 

"  I  hear  you,  sir,  in  the  dark,  but  I  'm  a-gropin'  —  a-gropin' 
—  let  me  catch  hold  of  your  hand  !  " 

"  Jo,  can  you  say  what  I  say  ? " 

"  I  '11  say  anythink  as  you  say,  sir,  fur  I  knows  it 's  good." 

"  OUR  FATHER," 

"  Our  Father  —  yes,  that 's  wery  good,  sir." 

"  WHICH  ART  IN  HEAVEN," 

"Art  in  Heaven  —  is  the  light  a-coming,  sir?" 

"  It  is  close  at  hand  —  HALLOWED  BE  THY  NAME." 

"  Hallowed  be  —  thy  — " 

The  light  is  come  upon  the  dark  benighted  way.  The  be- 
wildering path  is  cleared  of  shadows  at  last.  Jo  has  moved  on 
to  a  home  prepared  by  Eternal  Love  for  such  as  he. 

160 


PAUL    DOMBEY 


PAUL    DOMBEY    AND    HIS    SlSTER. 


PAUL    DOMBEY 


A  Mrs.   Dombey    died   when   little    Paul   was   born, 
upon    Mr.   Dombey  —  the   pompous  head  of  the 
great    firm    Dombey   and   Son  —  fell    the    entire 
responsibility    of   bringing   up    his   two    children, 
Florence,  then  eight  years  of  age,  and  the  tiny  boy,  Paul. 
Of  Florence  he  took  little  notice  ;  girls  never  seemed  to 
him  to  be  of  any  special  use  in  the  world,  but  Paul  was  the 
light  of  his  eyes,  his  pride  and  joy,  and  in  the  delicate  child 
with  his  refined  features  and  dreamy  eyes,  Mr.  Dombey  saw 
the  future  representative  of  the  firm,  and  his  heir  as  well ;  and 
he  could  not  do  enough  for  the  boy  who  was  to  perpetuate 
the  name  of  Dombey  after  him.     It  seemed  to  Mr.  Dombey 
that  any  one  so  fortunate  as  to  be  born  his  son  could  not  but 
thrive  in  return  for  so  great  a  favour.     So  it  was  a  blow  to  him 
that  Paul  did  not  grow  into  a  burly,  hearty  fellow.     All  their 
vigilance  and  care  could  not  make  him  a  sturdy  boy. 

He  was  a  pretty  little  fellow,  though  there  was  something 
wan  and  wistful  in  his  small  face.  His  temper  gave  abundant 
promise  of  being  imperious  in  after  life ;  and  he  had  as  hopeful 
an  apprehension  of  his  own  importance,  and  the  rightful  sub- 
servience of  all  other  things  and  persons  to  it  as  heart  could 
wish.  He  was  childish  and  sportive  enough  at  times,  and  not 
of  a  sullen  disposition ;  but  he  had  a  strange,  old-fashioned, 
thoughtful  way,  at  other  times  of  sitting  brooding  in  his  minia- 
ture arm-chair.  At  no  time  did  he  fall  into  it  so  surely  as  when 
after  dinner  he  sat  with  his  father  by  the  fire.  They  were  the 
strangest  pair  at  such  a  time  that  ever  fire-light  shone  upon. 
Mr.  Dombey  so  erect  and  solemn,  gazing  at  the  blaze  ;  Paul 

163 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

with  an  old,  old  face  peering  into  the  red  perspective  with  the 
fixed  and  rapt  attention  of  a  sage,  the  two  so  much  alike  and 
yet  so  monstrously  contrasted.  On  one  of  these  occasions, 
when  they  had  both  been  perfectly  quiet  for  a  long  time,  little 
Paul  broke  the  silence  thus : 

"  Papa,  what's  money  ?  " 

The  abrupt  question  took  Mr.  Dombey  by  surprise. 

"  What  is  money,  Paul?  "  he  answered,  "Money  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  child,  laying  his  hands  upon  the  elbows 
of  his  little  chair,  and  turning  his  face  up  towards  Mr. 
Dombey.  "  What  is  money?  " 

Mr.  Dombey  was  in  a  difficulty.  He  would  have  liked  to 
give  him  some  explanation,  involving  the  terms,  currency,  bullion, 
rates  of  exchange,  etc.,  but  he  feared  he  might  not  be  under- 
stood, so  he  answered : 

"  Gold  and  silver  and  copper.  Guineas,  shillings,  half- 
pence. You  know  what  they  are?" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know  what  they  are,"  said  Paul.  "  I  don't 
mean  that,  papa.  I  mean  what  is  money  after  all  ? " 

"  What  is  money  after  all !  "  —  said  Mr.  Dombey,  backing 
his  chair  a  little,  that  he  might  the  better  gaze  at  the  presump- 
tuous atom  who  propounded  such  an  inquiry. 

"  I  mean,  papa,  what  can  it  do  ? "  returned  Paul. 

Mr.  Dombey  patted  him  on  the  head.  "You'll  know 
better  by-and-by,  my  man,"  he  said.  "  Money,  Paul,  can 
do  anything." 

"  Anything,  papa  ?  " 

"  Yes,  anything  —  almost,"  said  Mr.  Dombey. 

"  Why  did  n't  money  save  me  my  mama  ?  "  returned  the 
child.  "  It  is  n't  cruel,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Cruel  ?"  said  Mr.  Dombey.  "  No.  A  good  thing  can't 
be  cruel." 

"  If  it 's  a  good  thing  and  can  do  anything,"  said  the  little 

164 


fellow,  thoughtfully,  as  he  looked  back  at  the  fire,  "  I  wonder 
why  it  did  n't  save  me  my  mama." 

He  didn't  ask  the  question  of  his  father  this  time.  Per- 
haps he  had  seen,  with  a  child's  quickness,  that  it  had  already 
made  his  father  uncomfortable.  But  he  repeated  the  thought 
aloud,  as  if  it  was  quite  an  old  one  to  him,  and  had  troubled 
him  very  much. 

"  It  can't  make  me  strong  and  quite  well,  either,  papa ; 
can  it  ? "  asked  Paul,  after  a  short  silence ;  rubbing  his  tiny 
hands. 

"  You  are  as  strong  and  well  as  such  little  people  usually 
are  ?  Eh  ?  "  said  Mr.  Dombey. 

"  Florence  is  older  than  I  am,  but  I  'm  not  as  strong  and 
well  as  Florence,  I  know,"  returned  the  child ;  "  I  am  so  tired 
sometimes,"  said  little  Paul,  "and  my  bones  ache  so  that  I 
don't  know  what  to  do." 

The  unusual  tone  of  that  conversation  so  alarmed  Mr. 
Dombey  that  the  very  next  day  he  began  to  inquire  into  the 
real  state  of  Paul's  health  ;  and  as  the  doctor  suggested  that  sea- 
air  might  be  of  benefit  to  the  child,  to  Brighton  he  was 
promptly  sent,  to  remain  until  he  should  seem  benefited. 
He  refused  to  go  without  Florence  to  whom  he  clung  with  a 
passion  of  devotion  which  made  Mr.  Dombey  both  irritated 
and  jealous  to  see,  wishing  himself  to  absorb  the  boy's  entire 
affection. 

So  to  Brighton  Paul  and  Florence  went,  in  charge  of 
Paul's  nurse,  Wickam.  They  found  board  in  the  house  of  an 
old  lady,  Mrs.  Pipchin  by  name,  whose  temper  was  not  of  the 
best  and  whose  methods  of  managing  children  were  rather 
peculiar. 

At  this  exemplary  old  lady,  Paul  would  sit  staring  in  his 
little  armchair  for  any  length  of  time.  He  never  seemed  to 
know  what  weariness  was  when  he  was  looking  fixedly  at 

'65 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 
i  j 

Mrs.  Pipchin.  He  was  not  fond  of  her,  he  was  not  afraid 
of  her,  but  she  seemed  to  have  a  grotesque  attraction  for 
him. 

Once  she  asked  him,  when  they  were  alone,  what  he  was 
thinking  about. 

"  You,"  said  Paul,  without  the  least  reserve. 

"  And  what  are  you  thinking  about  me  ?  "  asked  Mrs, 
Pipchin. 

"  I'm  thinking  how  old  you  must  be,"  said  Paul. 

"  You  must  n't  say  such  things  as  that,  young  gentleman," 
returned  the  dame. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Paul. 

"  Because  it 's  not  polite,"  said  Mrs.  Pipchin,  snappishly. 

"  Not  polite  ?  "  said  Paul. 

"No." 

"It's  not  polite,"  said  Paul  innocently,  "to  eat  all  the 
mutton-chops  and  toast,  Wickam  says." 

"  Wickam,"  retorted  Mrs.  Pipchin  colouring,  "  is  a  wicked, 
impudent,  bold-faced  hussy." 

"  What 's  that?  "  inquired  Paul. 

"  Never  you  mind,  sir,"  retorted  Mrs.  Pipchin.  "  Remem- 
ber the  story  of  the  little  boy  that  was  gored  to  death  by  a 
mad  bull  for  asking  questions." 

"  If  the  bull  was  mad,"  said  Paul,  "how  did  he  know  that 
the  boy  had  asked  questions  ?  Nobody  can  go  and  whisper 
secrets  to  a  mad  bull.  I  don't  believe  that  story." 

"You  don't  believe  it,  sir?"  repeated  Mrs.  Pipchin, 
amazed. 

"  No,"  said  Paul. 

"  Not  if  it  should  happen  to  have  been  a  tame  bull,  you 
little  infidel  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Pipchin. 

As  Paul  had  not  considered  the  subject  in  that  light,  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  put  down  for  the  present.  But  he  sat 

166 


PAUL     DOMBEY 

turning  it  over  in  his  mind  with  such  an  obvious  intention  of 
fixing  Mrs.  Pipchin  presently,  that  even  that  hardy  old  lady 
deemed  it  prudent  to  retreat  until  he  should  have  forgotten 
the  subject. 

From  that  time  Mrs.  Pipchin  appeared  to  have  something 
of  the  same  odd  kind  of  an  attraction  towards  Paul  as  Paul 
had  towards  her.  She  would  make  him  move  his  chair  to  her 
side  of  the  fire,  instead  of  sitting  opposite,  and  there  he  would 
remain  studying  every  line  of  Mrs.  Pipchin's  face,  while  the 
old  black  cat  lay  coiled  up  on  the  fender  purring  and  winking 
at  the  fire,  and  Paul  went  on  studying  Mrs.  Pipchin  and  the 
cat  and  the  fire,  night  after  night,  as  if  they  were  a  history  of 
necromancy  in  three  volumes. 

At  the  end  of  a  week,  as  Paul  was  no  stronger,  though  he 
looked  much  healthier  in  the  face,  a  little  carriage  was  got  for 
him,  in  which  he  could  be  wheeled  down  to  the  seaside.  Con- 
sistent in  his  odd  tastes,  the  child  set  aside  a  ruddy  faced  lad, 
who  was  proposed  as  the  drawer  of  this  carriage,  and  selected 
instead,  his  grandfather,  Glubb  by  name,  a  weazen,  old,  crab- 
faced  man,  in  a  suit  of  battered  oilskins,  who  smelt  like  a  weedy 
sea-beach  when  the  tide  is  out.  With  this  notable  attendant 
to  pull  him  along  and  Florence  always  by  his  side,  he  went 
down  to  the  margin  of  the  ocean  every  day  ;  and  there  he 
would  sit  or  lie  in  his  carriage  for  hours  together,  never  so  dis- 
tressed as  at  the  company  of  children. 

He  had  even  a  dislike  at  such  times  to  the  company  of 
nurse  Wickham,  and  was  well  pleased  when  she  strolled  away. 
His  favourite  spot  was  quite  a  lonely  one,  far  away  from  most 
loungers,  and  with  Florence  sitting  by  his  side  at  work,  or 
reading  to  him,  and  the  wind  blowing  on  his  face,  and  the  water 
coming  up  among  the  wheels  of  his  bed,  he  wanted  nothing 
more. 

For  a  year  the  children  stayed  at  Brighton,  going  home  but 

167  . 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

twice  during  that  time  for  a  few  days,  but  every  Sunday  Mr. 
Dombey  spent  with  them  at  the  Brighton  Hotel. 

During  the  year  Paul  had  grown  strong  enough  to  give  up 
his  carriage,  though  he  still  looked  thin  and  delicate,  and  still 
remained  the  same  dreamy,  quiet  child  that  he  had  been  when 
consigned  to  Mrs.  Pipchin' s  care. 

At  length,  on  a  Saturday  afternoon,  Mr.  Dombey  appeared 
with  the  news  that  he  was  thinking  of  removing  Paul  to  the 
school  of  one  Doctor  Blimber,  also  at  Brighton. 

"  I  have  had  some  communication  with  the  doctor,  Mrs. 
Pipchin,"  said  Mr.  Dombey,  "  and  he  does  not  think  Paul  at 
all  too  young  for  his  purposes.  My  son  is  getting  on,  Mrs. 
Pipchin,  really  he  is  getting  on. 

"  Six  years  old  !  "  said  Mr.  Dombey,  settling  his  neck- 
cloth. "Dear  me!  six  will  be  changed  to  sixteen  before  we 
have  time  to  look  about  us  ;  and  there  is  no  doubt,  I  fear,  that 
in  his  studies  he  is  behind  many  children  of  his  age  —  or  his 
youth,"  said  Mr.  Dombey  —  "  his  youth  is  a  more  appropriate 
expression. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Pipchin,  instead  of  being  behind  his  peers, 
my  son  ought  to  be  before  them,  far  before  them.  There  is 
an  eminence  ready  for  him  to  mount  on.  There  is  nothing  of 
chance  or  doubt  before  my  son.  The  education  of  such  a 
young  gentleman  must  not  be  delayed.  It  must  not  be  left 
imperfect.  It  must  be  very  steadily  and  seriously  undertaken, 
Mrs.  Pipchin." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Pipchin,  "  I  can  say  nothing  to  the 
contrary."  And  so  to  Doctor  Blimber's  Paul  was  sent. 

The  doctor's  was  a  mighty  fine  house  fronting  the  sea. 
Upon  its  doorstep  one  day  Paul  stood  with  a  fluttering  heart, 
and  with  his  small  right  hand  in  his  father's.  His  other 
hand  was  locked  in  that  of  Florence.  The  doctor  was  sitting 
in  his  portentous  study,  with  a  globe  at  each  knee,  books 

168 


PAUL      DOMBEY 

all  round  him,  Homer  over  the  door  and  Minerva  on  the 
mantel-shelf. 

Paul  being  somewhat  too  small  to  be  seen  from  where  the 
doctor  sat,  over  the  books  on  his  table,  the  doctor  made 
several  futile  attempts  to  get  a  view  of  him  round  the  legs  ; 
which  Mr.  Dombey  perceiving,  relieved  the  doctor  from  his 
embarrassment  by  taking  Paul  up  in  his  arms,  and  sitting  him 
on  another  little  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"  Ha  !"  said  the  doctor,  leaning  back  in  his  chair.  "Now 
I  see  my  little  friend.  How  do  you  do,  my  little  friend  ?  " 

"  V — ery  well,  I  thank  you,  sir,"  returned  Paul. 
"  Ha  !  "  said  Doctor  Blimber.     "  Shall  we  make  a  man  of 
him  ? " 

"  Do  you  hear,  Paul  ? "  added  Mr.  Dombey,  Paul  being 
silent. 

"  I  had  rather  be  a  child,"  replied  Paul. 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  the  doctor.     "  Why  ?  " 

The  child  made  no  audible  answer,  and  Doctor  Blimber 
continued,  "  You  would  wish  my  little  friend  to  acquire  —  ?  " 

"  Everything,  if  you  please,  doctor,"  returned   Mr.Dombey, 
firmly. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Yes,  exactly.  Ha  !  We  shall 
impart  a  great  variety  of  information  to  our  little  friend,  and 
bring  him  quickly  forward." 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Blimber  entered,  followed  by  her 
daughter,  and  they  were  duly  presented  to  the  Dombeys. 
There  was  no  light  nonsense  about  Miss  Blimber.  She  kept 
her  hair  short  and  crisp  and  wore  spectacles. 

Mrs.  Blimber,  her  mama,  was  not  learned  herself,  but  she 
pretended  to  be,  and  that  did  quite  as  well.  She  said  at  even- 
ing parties,  that  if  she  could  have  known  Cicero,  she  thought 
she  could  have  died  content.  It  was  the  steady  joy  of  her  life 
to  see  the  doctor's  young  gentlemen  go  out  walking,  in  the 

169 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

largest  possible  shirt-collars  and  the  stiffest  possible  cravats. 
It  was  so  classical,  she  said. 

After  the  introductions  were  accomplished  Mrs.  Blimber, 
took  Mr.  Dombey  upstairs  to  inspect  the  dormitories. 
While  they  were  gone  Paul  sat  upon  the  table,  holding 
Florence  by  the  hand,  and  glancing  timidly  from  the  doctor 
round  and  round  the  room,  while  the  doctor  held  a  book  from 
him  at  arm's  length  and  read. 

Presently  Mr.  Dombey  and  Mrs.  Blimber  returned. 

"  I  hope,  Mr.  Dombey,"  said  the  doctor  laying  down  his 
book,  "  that  the  arrangements  meet  with  your  approval  ?  " 

"  They  are  excellent,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Dombey,  and  added, 
"  I  think  I  have  given  all  the  trouble  I  need,  and  may  now 
take  my  leave.  Paul  my  child,  good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,  papa." 

The  limp  and  careless  little  hand,  that  Mr.  Dombey  took 
in  his,  was  singularly  out  of  keeping  with  the  wistful  little  face. 
But  he  had  no  part  in  its  sorrowful  expression.  It  was  not 
addressed  to  him.  No,  no !  To  Florence,  all  to  Florence. 

"  I  shall  see  you  soon,  Paul,"  said  Mr.  Dombey,  bending 
over  to  kiss  the  child.  "  You  are  free  on  Saturdays  and  Sun- 
days, you  know." 

"  Yes,  papa,"  returned  Paul,  looking  at  his  sister.  "On 
Saturdays  and  Sundays." 

"  And  you  '11  try  and  learn  a  great  deal  here  and  be  a 
clever  man,"  said  Mr.  Dombey ;  "  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  '11  try,"  said  the  boy,  wearily,  and  then  after  his  father 
had  patted  him  on  the  head,  and  pressed  his  small  hand  again, 
and  after  he  had  one  last  long  hug  from  Florence,  he  was  left 
with  the  globes,  the  books,  blind  Homer  and  Minerva,  while 
Doctor  Blimber  saw  Mr.  Dombey  to  the  door. 

After  the  lapse  of  some  minutes,  Doctor  Blimber  came 
back,  and  the  doctor  lifting  his  new  pupil  off  the  table  deliv- 

170 


PAUL      DOMBEY 

ered  him  over  to  Miss  Blimber's  care.  Miss  Blimber  received 
his  young  ward  from  the  doctor's  hands  ;  and  Paul,  feeling 
that  the  spectacles  were  surveying  him,  cast  down  his  eyes. 

"  How  much  of  your  Latin  Grammar  do  you  know, 
Dombey?"  said  Miss  Blimber. 

"  None  of  it,"  answered  Paul.  Feeling  that  the  answer 
was  a  shock  to  Miss  Blimber's  sensibility  he  added  : 

"  I  have  n't  been  well.  I  have  been  a  weak  child.  I 
could  n't  learn  a  Latin  Grammar  when  I  was  out  every  day 
with  old  Glubb.  I  wish  you  would  tell  old  Glubb  to  come 
and  see  me,  if  you  please." 

"  What  a  dreadful  low  name,"  said  Mrs.  Blimber.  "  Un- 
classical  to  a  degree  !  Who  is  the  monster,  child  ?  " 

"  What  monster !  "  inquired  Paul. 

"  Glubb,"  said  Mrs.  Blimber. 

"  He  's  no  more  a  monster  than  you  are,"  returned  Paul. 

"  What !  "  cried  the  doctor,  in  a  terrible  voice.  "  Aye, 
aye,  aye  ?  Aha  !  What 's  that  ?  " 

Paul  was  dreadfully  frightened,  but  still  he  made  a  stand 
for  the  absent  Glubb,  though  he  did  it  trembling. 

"  He's  a  very  nice  old  man,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "  He  used 
to  draw  my  couch ;  he  knows  all  about  the  deep  sea  and  the 
fish  that  are  in  it,  and  though  old  Glubb  don't  know  why  the 
sea  should  make  me  think  of  my  mama  that 's  dead,  or  what 
it  is  that  it  is  always  saying,  —  always  saying,  he  knows  a  great 
deal  about  it." 

"  Ha !  "  said  the  doctor,  shaking  his  head :  "  this  is  bad, 
but  study  will  do  much.  Take  him  round  the  house,  Cornelia, 
and  familiarise  him  with  his  new  sphere.  Go  with  that  young 
Jady,  Dombey." 

Dombey  obeyed,  giving  his  hand  to  Cornelia,  who  took 
him  first  to  the  school-room.  Here  were  eight  young  gentle- 
men in  various  stages  of  mental  prostration,  all  very  hard  at 

171 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

work  and  very  grave  indeed.  Toots,  the  oldest  boy  in  the 
school,  to  whom  Paul  had  previously  been  introduced,  had 
a  desk  to  himself  in  one  corner,  and  a  magnificent  man  of  im- 
mense age,  he  looked  in  Paul's  eyes  behind  it. 

The  appearance  of  a  new  boy  did  not  create  the  sensation 
that  might  have  been  expected.  Mr.  Feeder,  B.  A.,  gave  him 
a  bony  hand  and  told  him  he  was  glad  to  see  him,  and  then 
Paul,  instructed  by  Miss  Blimber  shook  hands  with  all  the 
eight  young  gentlemen,  at  work  against  time.  Then  Cornelia 
led  Paul  upstairs  to  the  top  of  the  house :  and  there,  in  a 
front  room  looking  over  the  wild  sea,  Cornelia  showed  him  a 
nice  little  white  bed  with  white  hangings,  close  to  the  window, 
on  which  there  was  already  written  on  a  card  in  round  text 
DOMBEY  ;  while  two  other  little  bedsteads  in  the  same  room, 
were  announced  through  the  same  means  as  belonging  to 
BRIGGS  and  TOZER. 

Then  Miss  Blimber  said  to  Dombey  that  dinner  would  be 
ready  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  perhaps  he  had  better  go 
into  the  school-room  among  his  "  friends."  So  Dombey 
opened  the  school-room  door  a  very  little  way  and  strayed  in 
like  a  lost  boy. 

His  "friends,"  were  all  dispersed  about  the  room.  All 
the  boys  (Toots  excepted)  were  getting  ready  for  dinner  — 
some  newly  tying  their  neckcloths,  and  others  washing  their 
hands  or  brushing  their  hair  in  an  adjoining  room.  Young 
Toots,  who  was  ready  beforehand,  and  had  therefore  leisure 
to  bestow  upon  Dombey,  said  with  heavy  good-nature,  — 

"  Sit  down,  Dombey." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Paul. 

His  endeavouring  to  hoist  himself  on  to  a  very  high  window- 
seat,  and  his  slipping  down  again,  prepared  Toots'  mind  for  the 
reception  of  a  discovery. 

"  You  're  a  very  small  chap,"  said  Mr.  Toots. 

172 


PAUL      DOMBEY 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  'm  small,"  returned  Paul.  "  Thank  you, 
sir."  For  Toots  had  lifted  him  into  the  seat,  and  done  it 
kindly  too. 

"  Who  's  your  tailor  ? "  inquired  Toots,  after  looking  at 
him  for  some  moments. 

"  It 's  a  woman  that  has  made  my  clothes  as  yet,"  said  Paul 
"  My  sister's  dressmaker." 

"  My  tailor's  Burgess  and  Co.,"  said  Toots.  "  Fash'nable 
but  very  dear." 

Paul  had  wit  enough  to  shake  his  head,  as  if  he  would  have 
said  it  was  easy  to  see  that. 

"Your  father's  regularly  rich,  ain't  he?"  inquired  Mr. 
Toots. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Paul.     "  He 's  Dombey  and  Son." 

"  And  which  ? "  demanded  Toots. 

"  And  son,  sir,"  replied  Paul. 

By  this  time  the  other  pupils  had  gathered  round,  and  after 
a  few  minutes  of  general  conversation  the  gong  sounded,  which 
caused  a  general  move  towards  the  dining-room.  Paul's  chair 
at  the  table  was  next  to  Miss  Blimber,  but  it  being  found,  when 
he  sat  in  it,  that  his  eyebrows  were  not  much  above  the  level 
of  the  table-cloth,  some  books  were  brought,  on  which  he  was 
elevated,  and  on  which  he  always  sat  from  that  time,  carrying 
them  in  and  out  himself  on  after  occasions,  like  a  little  elephant 
and  castle. 

Grace  having  been  said  by  the  doctor,  dinner  began.  There 
was  some  nice  soup,  also  roast  meat,  boiled  meat,  vegetables, 
pie,  and  cheese.  Every  young  gentleman  had  a  massive  silver 
fork  and  a  napkin,  and  all  the  arrangements  were  stately  and 
handsome.  There  was  a  butler  too,  in  a  blue  coat  and  brass 
buttons. 

Nobody  spoke  unless  spoken  to,  except  Doctor  Blimber, 
Mrs.  Blimber,  and  Miss  Blimber.  Only  once  during  dinner 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

was  there  any  conversation  that  included  the  young  gentlemen. 
It  happened  when  the  doctor,  having  hemmed  twice  or  thricej 
said :  — 

"It  is  remarkable,  Mr.  Feeder,  that  the  Romans  —  " 

At  this  mention  of  this  terrible  people,  their  implacable 
enemies,  every  young  gentleman  fastened  his  gaze  upon  the 
doctor,  with  an  assumption  of  the  deepest  interest.  One  of 
the  number  happened  to  be  drinking,  and  when  he  caught 
the  doctor's  eye  glaring  at  him  through  the  side  of  his  tumbler, 
he  left  off  so  hastily  that  he  was  convulsed  for  some  moments, 
and  in  the  sequel  ruined  Doctor  Blimber's  point,  for  at  the 
critical  part  of  the  Roman  tale,  Johnson,  unable  to  suppress  it 
any  longer,  burst  into  such  an  overwhelming  fit  of  coughing 
that,  although  both  his  immediate  neighbours  thumped  him  on 
the  back,  and  Mr.  Feeder  himself  held  a  glass  of  water  to  his 
lips,  and  the  butler  walked  him  up  and  down  several  times 
between  his  own  chair  and  the  sideboard,  like  a  sentry,  it  was 
full  five  minutes  before  he  was  moderately  composed,  and  then 
there  was  a  profound  silence. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Doctor  Blimber,  "  rise  for  Grace ! 
Cornelia,  lift  Dombey  down.  Johnson  will  repeat  to  me 
to-morrow  morning  before  breakfast,  without  book,  and  from 
the  Greek  Testament,  the  first  chapter  of  Saint  Paul  to  the 
Ephesians.  We  will  resume  our  studies,  Mr.  Feeder,  in  half- 
an-hour." 

The  young  gentlemen  bowed  and  withdrew.  Through  the 
rest  of  the  day's  routine  of  work  Paul  sat  in  a  corner  wonder- 
ing whether  Florence  was  thinking  of  him  and  what  they  were 
about  at  Mrs.  Pipchin's. 

In  the  confidence  of  their  own  room  that  night  Briggs  said 
his  head  ached  ready  to  split.  Tozer  did  n't  say  much,  but  he 
sighed  a  good  deal,  and  told  Paul  to  look  out  for  his  turn 
would  come  to-morrow.  And  Tozer  was  right.  The  next 


PAUL      DOMBEY 

morning  Miss  Blimber  called  Dombey  to  her  and  gave  him  a 
great  pile  of  books. 

"  These  are  yours,  Dombey,"  said  Miss  Blimber. 

"  All  of 'em,  ma'am  ?"  said  Paul. 

"Yes,"  returned  Miss  Blimber;  "and  Mr.  Feeder  will 
look  you  out  some  more  very  soon  if  you  are  as  studious 
as  I  expect  you  will  be,  Dombey." 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  Paul. 

"  Now,  don't  lose  time,  Dombey,"  continued  Miss  Blim- 
ber, "  for  you  have  none  to  spare,  but  take  them  downstairs 
ind  begin  directly." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  Paul. 

There  were  so  many  of  them  that,  although  Paul  put  one 
-land  under  the  bottom  book  and  his  other  hand  and  his  chin 
on  the  top  book  and  hugged  them  all  closely,  the  middle  book 
slipped  out  before  he  reached  the  door,  and  then  they  all 
tumbled  down  on  the  floor.  Miss  Blimber  said,  "  Oh,  Dom- 
bey, Dombey,  this  is  really  very  careless,"  and  piled  them  up 
afresh  for  him  ;  and  this  time  by  dint  of  balancing  them  with 
great  nicety,  Paul  got  out  of  the  room  and  down  a  few  stairs 
before  two  of  them  escaped  again.  But  he  held  the  rest  so 
tight  that  he  only  left  one  more  on  the  first  floor  and  one  in 
the  passage ;  and  when  he  had  got  the  main  body  down  into 
the  school-room,  he  set  off  upstairs  again  to  collect  the  strag- 
glers. Having  at  last  amassed  the  whole  library  and  climbed 
into  his  place  he  fell  to  work,  encouraged  by  a  remark  from 
Tozer  to  the  effect  that  he  was  in  for  it  now ;  which  was  the 
only  interruption  he  received  until  breakfast  time,  for  which 
meal  he  had  no  appetite,  and  when  it  was  finished,  he  followed 
Miss  Blimber  upstairs. 

"  Now,  Dombey,  how  have  you  got  on  with  those  books  ? " 
asked  Miss  Blimber. 

They  comprised   a  little  English,  and  a   deal  of   Latin, 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

names  of  things,  declensions  of  articles  and  nouns,  exercises 
thereon,  and  preliminary  rules  ;  a  trifle  of  orthography,  a  glance 
at  ancient  history,  a  wink  or  two  at  modern  ditto,  a  few  tables, 
two  or  three  weights  and  measures,  and  a  little  general  informa- 
tion. When  poor  Paul  had  spelt  out  number  two,  he  found 
he  had  no  idea  of  number  one,  fragments  whereof  obtruded 
themselves  into  number  three,  which  slided  into  number  four, 
which  grafted  itself  on  to  number  two.  So  that  whether  twenty 
Romuluses  made  a  Remus,  or  hie,  haec,  hoc,  was  troy  weight, 
or  a  verb  always  agreed  with  an  ancient  Briton,  or  three  times 
four  was  Taurus,  a  bull,  were  open  questions  with  him. 

"  Oh,  Dombey,  Dombey  ! "  said  Miss  Blimber,  "  this  is 
very  shocking  ! " 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Paul,  "  I  think  if  I  might  sometimes 
talk  a  little  with  old  Glubb,  I  should  be  able  to  do  better." 

"  Nonsense,  Dombey,"  said  Miss  Blimber,  "  I  could  n't 
hear  of  it;  and  now  take  away  the  top  book,  if  you  please, 
Dombey,  and  return  when  you  are  master  of  the  theme." 

From  that  time  Paul  gave  his  whole  mind  to  the  pursuit  of 
knowledge  and  acquitted  himself  very  well,  but  it  was  hard 
work,  and  only  on  Saturdays  did  he  have  time  to  draw  a  free 
breath. 

Oh  Saturdays,  happy  Saturdays,  when  Florence,  still  at 
Mrs.  Pipchin's,  came  at  noon  ;  they  made  up  for  all  the  other 
days  ! 

It  did  not  take  long  for  the  loving  sister  to  discover  that 
Paul  needed  help  with  the  lessons  over  which  he  plodded  so 
patiently,  and  so,  procuring  the  books  which  he  used,  she  kept 
pace  with  him  in  his  studies,  and  every  Saturday  was  able  to 
assist  him  with  his  next  week's  work,  and  thus  he  was  kept 
from  sinking  underneath  the  burden  which  Cornelia  Blimber 
piled  upon  his  back. 

It  was  not  that  Miss  Blimber  meant  to  be  too  hard  upon 

176 


PAUL      DOMBEY 

him,  or  that  Doctor  Blimber  meant  to  bear  too  heavily  upon  the 
young  gentlemen  in  general,  but  comforted  by  the  applause  of 
the  young  gentlemen's  nearest  relatives,  and  urged  on  by  their 
blind  vanity  and  ill-considered  haste,  it  would  have  been  strange 
if  Doctor  Blimber  had  discovered  his  mistake.  Thus  in  the  case 
of  Paul.  When  Doctor  Blimber  said  he  made  great  progress 
and  was  naturally  clever,  Mr.  Dombey  was  more  bent  than  ever 
on  his  being  forced  and  crammed. 

Such  spirits  as  he  had  in  the  outset  Paul  soon  lost.  But 
he  retained  all  that  was  strange  and  old  and  thoughtful  in  his 
character.  The  only  difference  was  that  he  kept  his  character 
to  himself.  He  grew  more  thoughtful  and  reserved  every  day. 
He  loved  to  be  alone ;  and  in  those  short  intervals  when  he 
was  not  occupied  with  his  books,  he  liked  nothing  so  well  as 
wandering  about  the  house  by  himself,  or  sitting  on  the  stairs 
listening  to  the  great  clock  in  the  hall. 

They  were  within  some  two  or  three  weeks  of  the  holidays 
when  one  day  Cornelia  called  Dombey  to  her  to  hear  the 
analysis  of  his  character  that  she  was  about  to  send  to  his 
father. 

"  Analysis"  said  Miss  Blimber,  "  of  the  character  of  P. 
Dombey.  It  may  be  generally  observed  of  Dombey,"  said 
Miss  Blimber,  reading  in  a  loud  voice,  and  at  every  second 
word  directing  her  spectacles  towards  the  little  figure  before 
her,  "  that  his  abilities  and  inclinations  are  good,  and  that  he 
has  made  as  much  progress  as  under  the  circumstances  could 
have  been  expected.  But  it  is  to  be  lamented  of  this  young 
gentleman  that  he  is  singular  (what  is  usually  termed  old- 
fashioned)  in  his  character  and  conduct,  and  that  he  is  often 
very  unlike  other  young  gentlemen  of  his  age  and  social  posi- 
tion. Now,  Dombey,"  said  Miss  Blimber,  laying  down  the 
paper,  "  do  you  understand  ?  This  analysis,  you  see,  Dombey," 
Miss  Blimber  continued,  "is  going  to  be  sent  home  to  your 
*  i*  177 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

respected  parent.  It  will  naturally  be  very  painful  to  him  to 
find  that  you  are  singular  in  your  character  and  conduct.  It  is 
naturally  very  painful  to  us,  for  we  can't  like  you,  you  know, 
Dombey,  as  well  as  we  could  wish." 

She  touched  the  child  upon  a  tender  point.  He  had 
secretly  become  more  solicitous  from  day  to  day  that  all  the 
house  should  like  him.  He  could  not  bear  to  think  that  they 
would  be  quite  indifferent  to  him  when  he  was  gone,  and  he 
had  even  made  it  his  business  to  conciliate  a  great,  hoarse, 
shaggy  dog,  who  had  previously  been  the  terror  of  his  life,  that 
even  he  might  miss  him. 

This  poor  tiny  Paul  set  forth  to  Miss  Blimber  as  well  as 
he  could  and  begged  her,  in  spite  of  the  official  analysis,  to 
have  the  goodness  to  try  to  like  him.  To  Mrs.  Blimber, 
who  had  joined  them,  he  preferred  the  same  petition ;  and 
when  she  gave  her  oft-repeated  opinion  that  he  was  an  odd 
child,  Paul  told  her  that  he  was  sure  that  she  was  quite 
right;  that  he  thought  it  must  be  his  bones,  but  he  didn't 
know,  and  he  hoped  she  would  overlook  it,  for  he  was  fond 
of  them  all. 

"  Not  so  fond,"  said  Paul,  with  a  mixture  of  frankness  and 
timidity  which  was  one  of  the  most  peculiar  and  engaging 
qualities  of  his,  "  not  so  fond  as  I  am  of  Florence,  of  course  ; 
that  could  never  be.  You  could  n't  expect  that,  could  you, 
ma'am  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  old-fashioned  little  soul !  "  cried  Mrs.  Blimber, 
in  a  whisper. 

"  But  I  like  everybody  here  very  much,"  pursued  Paul, 
"  and  I  should  grieve  to  go  away  and  think  that  any  one  was 
glad  I  had  gone,  or  did  n't  care." 

Mrs.  Blimber  was  now  sure  that  Paul  was  the  oddest  child 
in  the  world,  and  when  she  told  the  doctor  what  had  passed, 
he  did  not  controvert  his  wife's  opinion. 

178 


PAUL      DOMBEY 

And  Paul's  wish  was  gratified.  His  purpose  was  to  be 
a  gentle,  helpful,  quiet  little  fellow,  and  though  he  was  often 
to  be  seen  at  his  old  post  on  the  stairs,  or  watching  the  waves 
or  the  clouds  from  his  solitary  window,  he  was  oftener  found 
too,  among  the  other  boys,  modestly  rendering  them  some 
little  voluntary  service.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  Paul  was 
an  object  of  general  interest :  a  fragile  little  plaything  that  they 
all  liked,  and  that  no  one  would  have  thought  of  treating 
roughly.  But  he  could  not  change  his  nature,  and  so  they 
all  agreed  that  Dombey  was  old-fashioned. 

There  were  some  immunities,  however,  attaching  to  the 
character  enjoyed  by  no  one  else.  They  could  have  better 
spared  a  newer-fashioned  child,  and  that  alone  was  much. 
When  the  others  only  bowed  to  Doctor  Blimber  and  family 
when  retiring,  Paul  would  stretch  his  morsel  of  a  hand,  and 
boldly  shake  the  doctor's,  also  Mrs.  Blimber's,  also  Cornelia's ; 
and  if  any  one  was  to  be  begged  off  from  impending  punish- 
ment, Paul  was  always  the  delegate. 

One  evening,  when  the  holidays  were  very  near,  Paul  was 
in  Toots'  room  watching  Mr.  Feeder  and  Toots  fold,  seal, 
and  direct,  the  invitations  for  the  evening  party  with  which 
the  term  was  to  close.  Paul's  head,  which  had  long  been 
ailing  more  or  less,  and  was  sometimes  very  heavy  and  painful, 
felt  so  uneasy  that  night  that  he  was  obliged  to  support  it  on 
his  hand.  And  it  dropped  so  that  by  little  and  little  it  sunk 
on  Mr.  Toots'  knee,  and  rested  there. 

That  was  no  reason  why  he  should  be  deaf;  but  he  must 
have  been,  he  thought,  for  by  and  by  he  heard  Mr.  Feeder 
calling  in  his  ear,  and  gently  shaking  him  to  rouse  his  atten- 
tion. And  when  he  raised  his  head,  quite  scared,  he  found 
that  Doctor  Blimber  had  come  into  the  room,  and  that  the 
window  was  open,  and  that  his  forehead  was  wet  with  sprinkled 
watfr. 

179 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

"  Ah  !  Come,  come,  that 's  well.  How  is  my  little  friend 
now  ?  "  said  Doctor  Blimber. 

"  Oh,  quite  well,  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Paul. 

But  there  seemed  to  be  something  the  matter  with  the 
floor,  for  he  could  n't  stand  upon  it  steadily  ;  and  with  the 
walls  too,  for  they  were  inclined  to  turn  round  and  round. 

It  was  very  kind  of  Mr.  Toots  to  carry  him  to  the  top 
of  the  house  so  tenderly,  and  Paul  told  him  that  it  was.  But 
Mr.  Toots  said  he  would  do  a  great  deal  more  than  that  if 
he  could ;  and,  indeed,  he  did  more  as  it  was,  for  he  helped 
Paul  to  undress  and  helped  him  to  bed  in  the  kindest  manner 
possible,  and  then  sat  down  by  the  bedside  and  chuckled  very 
much,  while  Mr.  Feeder  leaning  over  the  bottom  of  the  bed- 
stead set  all  the  little  bristles  on  his  head,  bolt  upright  with 
his  bony  hands,  and  then  made  believe  to  spar  at  Paul,  with 
great  science,  on  account  of  his  being  all  right  again,  which 
was  so  funny  and  kind,  too,  in  Mr.  Feeder,  that  Paul,  not 
being  able  to  make  up  his  mind  whether  to  laugh  or  cry,  did 
both  at  once. 

Everything  that  could  minister  to  Paul's  comfort  was  done 
for  him,  and  in  those  days  just  before  the  holidays  when  the 
other  young  gentlemen  were  labouring  for  dear  life,  Paul  was 
such  a  privileged  pupil  as  had  never  been  seen  in  that  house 
before.  He  could  hardly  believe  it  himself,  but  his  liberty 
lasted  from  hour  to  hour,  from  day  to  day  ;  and  little  Dombey 
was  caressed  by  every  one. 

At  last,  the  great  night  of  the  reception  arrived. 

When  Paul  was  dressed,  which  was  very  soon  done,  for 
he  felt  unwell  and  drowsy  and  not  able  to  stand  about  it 
very  long,  he  went  down  into  the  drawing-room.  Shortly 
afterwards  Mrs.  Blimber  appeared,  looking  lovely,  Paul 
thought,  and  Miss  Blimber  came  down  soon  after  her  mama. 
Mr.  Toots  and  Mr.  Feeder  were  the  next  arrivals.  Each  of 

180 


PAUL      DOMBEY 

these  gentlemen  brought  his  hat  in  his  hand  as  if  he  lived 
somewhere  else  ;  and  when  they  were  announced  by  the  butler, 
Doctor  Blimber  said,  "  Aye,  aye,  aye  !  God  bless  my  soul!  " 
and  seemed  extremely  glad  to  see  them.  Mr.  Toots  was  one 
blaze  of  jewellery  and  buttons,  and  all  the  other  young  gentle- 
men were  tightly  cravatted,  curled,  and  pumped,  and  all  came 
in  with  their  hats  in  their  hands  at  separate  times  and  were 
announced  and  introduced.  Soon  Paul  slipped  down  from  the 
cushioned  corner  of  a  sofa,  and  went  downstairs  into  the  tea- 
room to  be  ready  for  Florence.  Presently  she  came ;  looking 
so  beautiful  in  her  simple  ball-dress,  with  her  fresh  flowers  in  her 
hand,  that  when  she  knelt  down,  to  take  Paul  round  the  neck 
and  kiss  him,  he  could  hardly  make  up  his  mind  to  let  her  go 
again,  or  to  take  away  her  bright  and  loving  eyes  from  his  face. 

"  But  what  is  the  matter,  Floy  ?  "  asked  Paul,  almost  sure 
that  he  saw  a  tear  there. 

"  Nothing,  darling,  nothing,"  returned  Florence. 

Paul  touched  her  cheek  gently  with  his  finger,  and  it  was 
a  tear. 

"  We  '11  go  home  together,  and  I  '11  nurse  you,  love,"  said 
Florence. 

"  Nurse  me  ?  "  echoed  Paul. 

"  Floy,"  said  Paul,  holding  a  ringlet  of  her  dark  hair  in 
his  hand.  "  Tell  me,  dear.  Do  you  think  I  have  grown 
old-fashioned  ?  " 

His  sister  laughed,  and  fondled  him  and  told  him,  "  No." 

Through  the  evening  Paul  sat  in  his  corner  watching  the 
dancing  and  beaming  with  pride  as  he  heard  praise  showered 
on  Dombey's  sister.  They  all  loved  her  —  how  could  they 
help  it,  Paul  had  known  beforehand  that  they  must  and  would, 
and  few  would  have  thought  with  what  triumph  and  delight 
he  watched  her.  Thus  little  Paul  sat  musing,  listening,  look- 
ing on  and  dreaming;  and  was  very  happy.  Until  the  time 

181 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

came  for  taking  leave,  and  then  indeed  there  was  a  sensation 
in  the  party.  Every  one  took  the  heartiest  sort  of  leave  of 
him. 

"  Good-bye,  Doctor  Blimber,"  said  Paul,  stretching  out 
his  hand. 

"  Good-bye,  my  little  friend,"  returned  the  doctor. 

"  I  'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,"  said  Paul,  looking 
innocently  up  into  his  awful  face.  "  Ask  them  to  take  care  of 
Diogenes,  if  you  please." 

Diogenes  was  the  dog  who  had  never  received  a  friend  into 
his  confidence,  before  Paul.  The  doctor  promised  that  every 
attention  should  be  paid  to  Diogenes  in  Paul's  absence,  and 
Paul  having  again  thanked  him,  and  shaken  hands  with 
him,  bade  adieu  to  Mrs.  Blimber  and  Cornelia.  Cornelia, 
taking  both  Paul's  hands  in  hers  said,  —  "  Dombey,  Dombey, 
you  have  always  been  my  favourite  pupil.  God  bless  you  !  " 
And  it  showed,  Paul  thought,  how  easily  one  might  do  in- 
justice to  a  person  ;  for  Miss  Blimber  meant  it  —  although  she 
was  a  Forcer. 

A  buzz  then  went  round  among  the  young  gentlemen,  of 
"  Dombey  's  going  !  little  Dombey  's  going  !  "  and  there  was  a 
general  move  after  Paul  and  Florence  down  the  staircase  and 
into  the  hall,  in  which  the  whole  Blimber  family  were  included. 
The  servants  with  the  butler  at  their  head  had  all  an  interest 
in  seeing  Little  Dombey  go,  and  even  the  young  man  taking 
out  his  books  and  trunks  to  the  coach  melted  visibly.  Nothing 
could  restrain  them  from  taking  quite  a  noisy  leave  of  Paul  ; 
waving  hats  after  him,  pressing  downstairs  to  shake  hands 
with  him,  crying  individually  "  Dombey  !  don't  forget  me ! " 
Paul  whispered  to  Florence,  as  she  wrapped  him  up  before  the 
door  was  opened.  Did  she  hear  them  ?  Would  she  ever  forget 
it  ?  Was  she  glad  to  know  it  ?  And  a  lively  delight  was  in 
his  eyes  as  he  spoke  to  her. 

182 


PAUL      DOMBEY 

Once  for  a  last  look  he  turned  and  gazed  upon  the  faces 
thus  addressed  to  him,  surprised  to  see  how  shining  and  how 
bright  and  how  numerous  they  were.  They  swam  before  him, 
as  he  looked,  and  next  moment  he  was  in  the  dark  coach 
outside  holding  close  to  Florence.  From  that  time,  when- 
ever he  thought  of  Doctor  Blimber's  it  came  back  as  he  had  seen 
it  in  this  last  view ;  and  it  never  seemed  a  real  place  again,  but 
always  a  dream,  full  of  eyes. 

And  so  ended  little  Paul's  school  days  at  Doctor  Blimber's, 
for  once  at  home  again  he  never  rose  from  his  little  bed.  He 
lay  there  (listening  to  the  noises  in  the  street),  quite  tranquilly, 
not  caring  much  how  the  time  went,  but  watching  it  and 
everything  about  him  with  observing  eyes.  When  the  sun- 
beams struck  into  his  room  through  the  rustling  blinds,  and 
quivered  on  the  opposite  wall  like  golden  water,  he  knew  that 
evening  was  coming  on,  and  that  the  sky  was  red  and  beauti- 
ful. As  the  reflection  died  away,  and  a  gloom  went  creeping 
up  the  wall,  he  watched  it  deepen  —  deepen,  into  night. 
Then  he  thought  how  the  long  streets  were  dotted  with  lamps, 
and  how  the  peaceful  stars  were  shining  overhead.  His  fancy 
had  a  strange  tendency  to  wander  to  the  river,  which  he  knew 
was  flowing  through  the  great  city ;  and  now  he  thought  how 
black  it  was  and  how  deep  it  would  look  reflecting  the  hosts 
of  stars  —  and  more  than  all,  how  steadily  it  rolled  away  to 
meet  the  sea. 

As  it  grew  later  in  the  night,  and  footsteps  in  the  street 
became  so  rare  that  he  could  hear  their  coming,  count  them  as 
they  passed,  and  lose  them  in  the  hollow  distance,  he  would  lie 
and  watch  the  many-coloured  ring  about  the  candle,  and 
wait  patiently  for  day.  When  day  began  to  dawn  again,  he 
watched  for  the  sun  and  when  its  cheerful  light  began  to  sparkle 
in  the  room,  he  pictured  to  himself — pictured!  he  saw  —  the 
high  church  towers  rising  up  into  the  morning  sky,  the  town 

183 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

reviving,  waking,  starting  into  life  once  more,  the  river 
glistening  as  it  rolled  (but  rolling  fast  as  ever),  and  the  country 
bright  with  dew.  Familiar  sounds  came  by  degrees  into  the 
street  below ;  the  servants  in  the  house  were  roused  and  busy  ; 
faces  looked  in  at  the  door,  and  voices  asked  his  attendants 
softly  how  he  was.  Paul  always  answered  for  himself,  "  I  am 
better.  I  am  a  great  deal  better,  thank  you.  Tell  papa  so." 

By  little  and  little  he  got  tired  of  the  bustle  of  the  day,  the 
noise  of  carriages  and  carts,  and  people  passing  and  re-passing ; 
and  would  fall  asleep,  or  be  troubled  with  a  restless,  and  uneasy 
sense  again  —  the  child  could  hardly  tell  whether  this  were  in 
his  sleeping  or  his  waking  moments  —  of  that  rushing  river. 

"  Why  will  it  never  stop,  Floy  ? "  he  would  sometimes  ask 
her.  "  It  is  bearing  me  away  I  think." 

But  Floy  could  always  soothe  and  reassure  him :  and  it 
was  his  daily  delight  to  make  her  lay  her  head  down  on  his 
pillow,  and  take  some  rest. 

"You  are  always  watching  me,  Floy,  let  me  watch  you  now." 
They  would  prop  him  up  with  cushions  in  a  corner  of  his  bed, 
and  there  he  would  recline  the  while  she  lay  beside  him,  bend- 
ing forwards  oftentimes  to  kiss  her. 

Thus  the  flush  of  the  day  in  its  heat  and  light,  would  gra- 
dually decline  ;  and  again  the  golden  water  would  be  dancing  on 
the  wall. 

He  was  visited  by  as  many  as  three  grave  doctors  — 
they  used  to  assemble  downstairs  and  come  up  together  — 
and  the  room  was  so  quiet  and  Paul  was  so  observant  of  them 
(though  he  never  asked  of  anybody  what  they  said)  that  he 
even  knew  the  difference  in  the  sound  of  their  watches. 

The  people  round  him  changed  as  unaccountably  as  on 
that  first  night  at  Doctor  Blimber's  —  except  Florence ;  Florence 
never  changed.  Old  Mrs.  Pipchin  dozing  in  an  easy  chair, 
often  changed  to  someone  else  and  Paul  was  quite  content  to 

184 


shut  his  eyes  again  and  see  what  happened  next,  without 
emotion.  But  one  figure  with  its  head  upon  its  hand  returned 
so  often  and  remained  so  long,  and  sat  so  still  and  solemn, 
never  speaking,  never  being  spoken  to,  and  rarely  lifting  up  its 
face,  that  Paul  began  to  wonder  languidly  if  it  were  real. 

"  Floy,"  he  said,  "  what  is  that  ?  " 

"  Where,  dearest  ? " 

"  There,  at  the  bottom  of  the  bed." 

"There's  nothing  there  except  papa." 

The  figure  lifted  up  its  head,  and  rose,  and  coming  to  the 
bedside  said  :  "  My  own  boy  !  Don't  you  know  me  ? " 

Paul  looked  it  in  the  face  and  thought,  was  this  his  father? 
But  the  face  so  altered  to  his  thinking,  thrilled  while  he  gazed, 
as  if  it  were  in  pain ;  and  before  he  could  reach  out  both  his 
hands  to  take  it  between  them  and  draw  it  towards  him,  the 
figure  turned  away  quickly  from  the  little  bed,  and  went  out  at 
the  door.  The  next  time  he  observed  the  figure  sitting  at  the 
bottom  of  the  bed,  he  called  to  it : 

"  Don't  be  so  sorry  for  me,  dear  papa.  Indeed,  I  am 
quite  happy." 

His  father  coming  and  bending  down  to  him,  which  he  did 
quickly,  Paul  held  him  round  the  neck  and  repeated  those 
words  to  him  several  times  and  very  earnestly.  This  was  the 
beginning  of  his  always  saying  in  the  morning  that  he  was  a 
great  deal  better,  and  that  they  were  to  tell  his  father  so. 

How  many  times  the  golden  water  danced  on  the  wall ;  how 
many  nights  the  dark,  dark  river  rolled  away  towards  the  sea  in 
spite  of  him,  Paul  never  counted,  never  sought  to  know.  If 
their  kindness  could  have  increased,  or  his  sense  of  it,  they 
were  more  kind,  and  he  more  grateful  every  day ;  but  whether 
they  were  many  days  or  few  appeared  of  little  moment  now  to 
the  gentle  boy. 

One  night  he  had  been  thinking  of  his  mother  and  her  pic- 

185 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

ture  in  the  drawing-room  downstairs.  The  train  of  thought 
suggested  to  him  to  inquire  if  he  had  ever  seen  his  mother ; 
for  he  could  not  remember  whether  they  had  told  him  yes  or 
no,  the  river  running  very  fast  and  confusing  his  mind. 

"  Floy,  did  I  ever  see  mama  ?  " 

"  No,  darling ;  why  ?  " 

"  Did  I  ever  see  any  kind  face  like  mama's  looking  at  me 
when  I  was  a  baby,  Floy  ?  " 
"  Oh  yes,  dear." 

"  Whose,  Floy  ?  " 

"  Your  old  nurse's,  often." 

"  And  where  is  my  old  nurse  ?  "  said  Paul.  "  Is  she  dead, 
too  ?  Floy  are  we  all  dead  except  you  ?  " 

There  was  a  hurry  in  the  room  for  an  instant  —  longer 
perhaps  —  then  all  was  still  again,  and  Florence,  with  her  face 
quite  colourless  but  smiling,  held  his  head  upon  her  arm.  Her 
arm  trembled  very  much. 

"  Show  me  that  old  nurse,  Floy,  if  you  please." 

"  She  is  not  here,  darling ;  she  shall  come  to-morrow." 

"  Thank  you,  Floy." 

Paul  closed  his  eyes  with  these  words  and  fell  asleep. 
When  he  awoke  the  sun  was  high  and  the  broad  day  was  clear 
and  warm.  He  lay  a  little,  looking  at  the  windows,  which 
were  open,  and  the  curtains  rustling  in  the  air,  and  waving  to 
and  fro,  then  he  said,  "  Floy,  is  it  to-morrow  ?  Is  she  come  ?  " 
The  next  thing  that  happened  was  a  noise  of  footsteps  on  the 
stairs,  and  then  Paul  woke  —  woke  mind  and  body  —  and  sat 
upright  in  his  bed.  He  saw  them  now  about  him.  There 
was  no  gray  mist  before  them  as  there  had  been  some  time  in 
the  night.  He  knew  them  every  one  and  called  them  by  their 
names. 

"  And  who  is  this  ?  Is  this  my  old  nurse  ? "  said  the 
child,  regarding  with  a  radiant  smile  a  figure  coming  in. 

186 


PAUL      DOMBEY 

Yes,  yes.  No  other  stranger  would  have  shed  those  tears 
at  sight  of  him,  and  called  him  her  dear  boy,  her  pretty  boy, 
her  own  poor  blighted  child.  No  other  woman  would  have 
stooped  down  by  his  bed,  and  taken  up  his  wasted  hand,  and 
put  it  to  her  lips  and  breast,  as  one  who  had  some  right  to 
fondle  it. 

"  Floy,  this  is  a  kind,  good  face,"  said  Paul.  "  I  am  glad 
to  see  it  again.  Don't  go  away,  old  nurse.  Stay  here." 

"  Good-bye,  my  child,"  cried  Mrs.  Pipchin,  hurrying  to 
his  bed's  head.  "  Not  good-bye  ?  " 

For  an  instant  Paul  looked  at  her  with  the  wistful  face  with 
which  he  had  so  often  gazed  upon  her  in  his  corner  by  the  fire. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  he  said,  placidly,  "  good-bye.    Where  is  papa  ?  " 

He  felt  his  father's  breath  upon  his  cheek  before  the  words 
had  parted  from  his  lips. 

"  Now  lay  me  down,"  he  said,  "  and,  Floy,  come  close  to 
me,  and  let  me  see  you." 

Sister  and  brother  wound  their  arms  around  each  other,  and 
the  golden  light  came  streaming  in,  and  fell  upon  them,  locked 
together. 

"  How  fast  the  river  runs,  between  its  green  banks  and 
the  rushes,  Floy.  But  it's  very  near  the  sea.  I  hear  the 
waves." 

Presently  he  told  her  that  the  motion  of  the  boat  upon  the 
stream  was  lulling  him  to  rest.  How  near  the  banks  were 
now.  How  bright  the  flowers  growing  on  them,  and  how  tall 
the  rushes.  Now  the  boat  was  out  at  sea  but  gliding  smoothly 
on.  And  now  there  was  a  shore  before  him.  Who  stood  on 
the  bank  ? 

He  put  his  hands  together  as  he  had  been  used  to  do  at  his 
prayers.  He  did  not  remove  his  arms  to  do  it,  but  they  saw 
him  fold  them  so,  behind  her  neck. 

"  Mama  is  like  you,  Floy.  I  know  her  by  the  face.  But 

187 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

tell  them  that  the  print  upon  the  stairs  at  school  is  not  divine 
enough.  The  light  about  the  head  is  shining  on  me  as  I  go." 
The  golden  ripple  on  the  wall  came  back  again,  and  nothing 
else  stirred  in  the  room.  The  old,  old  fashion.  The  fashion 
that  came  in  with  our  first  garments,  and  will  last  unchanged 
until  our  race  has  run  its  course,  and  the  wide  firmament  is 
rolled  up  like  a  scroll.  The  old,  old  fashion —  Death. 

Oh,  thank  God  for  that  older  fashion   yet,  —  of  Immor- 
tality ! 


p  I  p 


PIP   AND   Miss   HAVISHAM. 


PIP 

MY  father's  family  name  being  Pirrip,  and  my 
Christian  name  Philip,  my  infant  tongue  could 
make  of  both  names  nothing  more  explicit 
than  Pip.  So  I  called  myself  Pip,  and  came 
to  be  called  Pip. 

My  mother  and  father  both  being  dead,  I  was  brought  up 
by  my  sister,  Mrs.  Joe  Gargery,  who  was  more  than  twenty 
years  older  than  I,  and  a  veritable  shrew  by  nature.  She  had 
acquired  a  great  reputation  among  the  neighbours  because  she 
had  brought  me  up  by  hand.  Not  understanding  this  expres- 
sion, and  knowing  her  to  have  a  hard  and  heavy  hand,  and  to 
be  much  in  the  habit  of  laying  it  upon  her  husband  as  well 
as  upon  me,  I  supposed  that  Joe  Gargery  and  I  were  both 
brought  up  by  hand. 

Joe,  her  husband,  was  a  mild,  good-natured,  sweet-tempered, 
easy-going,  foolish,  dear  fellow,  with  light  curly  hair  and  blue 
eyes,  and  he  and  I  were  great  chums,  as  well  as  fellow-sufferers 
under  the  rule  of  my  sharp-tongued  sister. 

One  afternoon  I  was  wandering  in  the  church-yard  where 
my  mother  and  father  were  buried,  when  I  was  accosted  by 
a  fearful  man  all  in  coarse  grey,  with  a  great  iron  on  his 
leg.  He  wore  no  hat  and  had  broken  shoes,  and  an  old 
rag  tied  round  his  head.  He  limped  and  shivered,  and 
glared  and  growled,  his  teeth  chattering,  as  he  seized  me 
by  the  chin. 

"  O  don't  cut  my  throat,  sir !  "  I  pleaded  in  terror.   "  Pray 

don't  do  it,  sir !  " 

"  Tell  us  your  name,"  said  the  man,  "  quick  ! " 

191 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

"  Pip,  sir." 

"  Show  us  where  you  live/'  he  said.  "  Point  out  the 
place ! " 

I  pointed  to  where  our  village  lay,  and  then  the  man, 
after  looking  at  me  for  a  moment,  turned  me  upside  down 
and  emptied  my  pockets,  but  there  was  nothing  in  them 
except  a  piece  .of  bread.  When  the  church  came  to  itself, 
for  he  was  so  sudden  and  strong  that  he  made  it  go  head 
over  heels  before  me,  —  I  was  seated  on  a  high  tombstone 
trembling,  while  he  ate  the  bread  ravenously.  Then  he 
came  nearer  to  my  tombstone,  took  me  by  both  arms,  and 
tilted  me  back  as  far  as  he  could  hold  me,  looking  into  my 
eyes. 

"Now  lookee  here,"  he  said,  "you  get  me  a  file  and  you 
get  me  wittles  ;  you  bring  both  to  me  to-morrow  morning 
early,  that  file  and  them  wittles.  You  bring  the  lot  to  me  at 
that  old  Battery  yonder.  You  do  it,  and  you  never  dare  to 
say  a  word  concerning  your  having  seen  such  a  person  as  me, 
and  you  shall  be  let  live.  You  fail  in  any  partickler  and  your 
heart  and  your  liver  shall  be  tore  out,  roasted  and  ate  !  Now 
I  ain't  alone,  as  you  may  think.  There  is  a  young  man  hid 
with  me  who  hears  the  words  I  speak.  It  is  in  wain  for  a  boy 
to  attempt  to  hide  himself  from  that  young  man.  A  boy  may 
lock  his  door,  may  be  warm  in  bed,  may  draw  the  clothes  over 
his  head,  may  think  himself  comfortable  and  safe,  but  that 
young  man  will  soon  creep  and  creep  his  way  to  him  and  tear 
him  open.  I  am  a-keeping  the  young  man  from  harming  of 
you  at  the  present  moment  with  great  difficulty.  Now  what 
do  you  say  ?  " 

I  said  I  would  get  him  the  file  and  what  food  I  could,  and 
would  come  to  him  early  in  the  morning. 

"  Say,  Lord  strike  me  dead,  if  you  don't !  " 

I  said  so  and  he  took  me  down.  I  faltered  a  good  night, 

192 


p  I  p 

and  he  turned  to  go,  walking  as  if  he  were  numb  and  stiff. 
When  I  saw  him  turn  to  look  once  more  at  me,  I  made  the 
best  use  of  my  legs,  having  a  terrible  fear  of  him,  and  of  the 
young  man,  and  I  ran  home  without  once  stopping. 

I  found  the  forge  shut  up  and  Joe  alone  in  the  kitchen. 
The  minute  I  raised  the  latch,  he  said : 

"  Mrs.  Joe  has  been  out  a  dozen  times  looking  for  you,  Pip, 
and  she 's  out  now,  and  what 's  more,  she  's  got  Tickler  with 
her." 

At  this  dismal  intelligence  I  looked  with  great  depression 
at  the  fire.  Tickler  was  a  wax-ended  piece  of  cane,  worn 
smooth  by  contact  with  my  tickled  frame. 

"  She  sot  down,"  said  Joe,  "  and  she  got  up,  and  she  made 
a  grab  at  Tickler,  and  she  rampaged  out.  Now  she 's  a-coming  ! 
Go  behind  the  door,  old  chap  ! " 

I  took  the  advice,  but  my  sister,  throwing  the  door  wide 
open,  and  finding  an  obstruction  behind  it,  guessed  the  cause, 
and  applied  Tickler  to  its  further  investigation. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  you  young  monkey  ?  "  she  asked, 
stamping  her  foot ;  "  Tell  me  directly  what  you  Ve  been  doing 
to  wear  me  away  with  fret  and  fright  and  worrit? " 

"  I  have  only  been  in  the  church-yard,"  said  I,  crying  and 
rubbing  myself,  but  my  answer  did  not  satisfy  my  sister,  who 
kept  on  scolding  and  applying  Tickler  to  my  person  until  she 
was  obliged  to  see  to  the  tea  things.  Though  I  was  very 
hungry,  I  dared  not  eat  my  bread  and  butter,  for  I  felt  that  I 
must  have  something  in  reserve  to  take  my  dreadful  acquaint- 
ance in  case  I  could  find  nothing  else.  Therefore,  at  a  moment 
when  no  one  was  looking,  I  put  a  hunk  of  bread  and  butter 
down  the  leg  of  my  trousers.  Joe  thought  I  had  eaten  it  in 
one  gulp,  which  greatly  distressed  him,  and  I  was  borne  off  and 
dosed  with  tar  water. 

Conscience  is  a  dreadful  thing  when  it  accuses  man  or  boy. 
'3  193 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

The  guilty  knowledge  that  I  was  going  to  rob  Mrs.  Joe,  united 
to  the  necessity  of  keeping  one  hand  on  my  bread  and  butter 
as  I  sat  or  moved  about,  almost  drove  me  out  of  my  mind,  but 
as  it  was  Christmas  Eve,  I  was  obliged  to  stir  the  pudding  for 
next  day  for  one  whole  hour.  I  tried  to  do  it  with  the  load  on 
my  leg,  and  found  the  tendency  of  exercise  was  to  bring  the 
bread  out  at  my  ankle,  so  I  managed  to  slip  away  and  deposit 
it  in  my  garret  room.  Later  there  was  a  sound  of  firing  in  the 
distance.  "  Ah,"  said  Joe,  'c  there 's  another  convict  off!  " 

"  What  does  that  mean,  Joe,"  said  I. 

Mrs.  Joe  answered,  "  Escaped,  escaped,"  and  Joe  added, 
—  "  There  was  one  off  last  night,  and  they  fired  warning  of 
him.  And  now  it  appears  they  're  firing  warning  of  another." 

"  Who 's  firing  ?  "  said  I.   ' 

"  Drat  that  boy,"  said  my  sister,  frowning.  "  What  a 
questioner  he  is !  Ask  no  questions  and  you  '11  be  told  no 
lies  !  " 

I  waited  a  while,  and  then  as  a  last  resort,  I  said,  —  "  Mrs. 
Joe,  I  should  tike  to  know  —  if  you  wouldn't  much  mind  — 
where  the  firing  comes  from  ?  " 

"  Lord  bless  the  boy ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  from  the 
Hulks!" 

"Oh  —  h,"  said  I,  looking  at  Joe,  "  Hulks!  And  please 
what's  Hulks?" 

"  That 's  the  way  with  this  boy,"  exclaimed  my  sister, 
"  answer  him  one  question,  and  he  '11  ask  you  a  dozen  directly. 
Hulks  are  prison  ships  right  'cross  the  meshes."  (We  always 
used  that  name  for  marshes  in  our  country.) 

"  I  wonder  who  's  put  in  prison  ships,  and  why  they  're 
put  there,"  said  I. 

This  was  too  much  for  Mrs.  Joe,  who  immediately  rose. 
"  I  tell  ye  what,  young  fellow,"  said  she,  "  I  did  n't  bring  you 
up  by  hand  to  badger  people's  lives  out.  People  are  put  in 

194 


p  I  p 

the  Hulks  because  they  murder  and  rob  and  forge  and  do  all 
sorts  of  bad  ;  and  they  always  begin  by  asking  questions.  Now 
you  get  along  to  bed  !  " 

I  was  never  allowed  a  candle  and  as  I  crept  up  in  the  dark 
I  felt  fearfully  sensible  that  the  Hulks  were  handy  for  me. 
I  was  clearly  on  the  way  there.  I  had  begun  by  asking 
questions  and  I  was  going  to  rob  Mrs.  Joe.  I  was  also  in 
mortal  terror  of  the  young  man  who  wanted  my  heart  and 
liver,  and  of  my  acquaintance  with  the  iron  on  his  leg,  and  if  I 
slept  at  all  that  night  it  was  only  to  imagine  myself  drifting 
down  the  river  on  a  strong  spring  tide  to  the  Hulks,  a  ghostly 
pirate  calling  out  to  me  through  a  speaking  trumpet  that  I  had 
better  come  ashore  and  be  hanged  there  at  once.  I  was  afraid 
to  sleep  even  if  I  could  have,  for  I  knew  that  at  the  first  dawn 
of  morning  I  must  rob  the  pantry  and  be  off. 

So  as  early  as  possible  I  crept  downstairs  to  the  pantry  and 
secured  some  bread,  some  rind  of  cheese,  half  a  jar  of  mince- 
meat, some  brandy  from  a  stone  bottle  which  I  poured  into 
a  bottle  of  my  own  and  then  filled  the  stone  one  up  with 
water.  I  also  took  a  meat  bone  and  a  beautiful  pork  pie. 
Then  I  got  a  file  from  among  Joe's  tools,  and  with  this 
and  my  other  plunder  made  my  way  with  all  dispatch  along 
the  river-side.  Presently  I  came  upon  what  I  supposed  was 
the  man  I  was  searching  for,  for  he  too  was  dressed  in  coarse 
gray  and  had  a  great  iron  on  his  leg,  but  his  face  was 
different. 

"  It 's  the  young  man,"  I  thought,  feeling  my  heart  beat 
fast  at  the  idea.  He  swore  at  me  as  I  passed,  and  tried  in  a 
weak  way  to  hit  me,  but  then  he  ran  away  and  I  continued 
my  trip  to  the  Battery,  and  there  was  the  right  man  in  a 
ravenous  condition.  He  was  gobbling  mincemeat,  meat-bone, 
bread,  cheese,  and  pork  pie  all  at  once,  when  he  turned  sud- 
denly and  said : 


TEN     BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

"  You  're  not  a  deceiving  imp  ?  You  brought  no  one  with 
you  ? "  I  answered  no,  and  he  resumed  his  meal,  snapping 
at  the  food  as  a  dog  would  do.  While  he  was  eating,  I 
ventured  to  remark  that  I  had  met  the  young  man  he  spoke 
of,  at  which  the  man  showed  the  greatest  surprise,  and  became 
so  violently  excited  that  I  was  very  much  afraid  of  him.  I 
was  also  afraid  of  remaining  away  from  home  any  longer.  I 
told  him  I  must  go,  but  he  took  no  notice,  so  I  thought  the 
best  thing  I  could  do  was  to  slip  off*,  which  I  did. 

"  And  where  the  deuce  ha'  you  been  ?  "  was  Mrs.  Joe's 
Christmas  salutation. 

I  said  I  had  been  down  to  hear  the  carols.  "Ah  well," 
observed  Mrs.  Joe,  "  you  might  ha'  done  worse,"  and  then 
went  on  with  her  work  as  we  were  to  have  company  for 
dinner,  and  the  feast  was  to  be  one  that  occasioned  extensive 
arrangements.  My  sister  had  too  much  to  do  to  go  to  church, 
but  Joe  and  I  went,  arrayed  in  our  Sunday  best.  When  we 
reached  home  we  found  the  table  laid,  Mrs.  Joe  dressed  and 
the  front  door  unlocked — (it  never  was  at  any  other  time) 
and  everything  most  splendid.  And  still  not  a  word  about 
the  robbery.  The  company  arrived;  Mr.  Wopsle,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hubble,  and  Uncle  Pumblechook,  Joe's  uncle,  who  lived 
in  the  nearest  town  and  drove  his  own  chaise  cart. 

Dinner  was  a  brilliant  success,  but  so  rich  that  Uncle 
Pumblechook  was  entirely  overcome,  and  was  obliged  to  call 
for  brandy.  Oh  heavens  !  he  would  say  it  was  weak,  and  I 
should  be  lost !  I  held  tight  to  the  leg  of  the  table  and 
awaited  my  fate.  The  brandy  was  poured  out  and  Uncle 
Pumblechook  drank  it  off.  Instantly  he  sprang  to  his  feet, 
turned  round  several  times  in  an  appalling,  spasmodic  whoop- 
ing-cough dance,  and  rushed  out  at  the  door  to  the  great 
consternation  of  the  company.  Mrs.  Joe  and  Joe  ran  out  and 
brought  him  back,  and  as  he  sank  into  his  chair  he  gasped  the 

196 


p  I  p 

one  word,  "  Tar !  "  I  had  filled  up  the  bottle  from  the  tar- 
water  jug !  Oh  misery  !  I  knew  he  would  be  worse  by  and 
by! 

"  Tar  ? "  cried  my  sister.  "  Why  how  ever  could  tar 
come  there  ? "  Fortunately  at  that  moment,  Uncle  Pumble- 
chook  called  for  hot  gin  and  water,  and  my  sister  had  to 
employ  herself  actively  in  getting  it.  For  the  time  at  least,  I 
was  saved.  By  degrees  I  became  calmer  and  able  to  partake 
of  pudding,  and  was  beginning  to  think  I  should  get  over  the 
day,  when  my  sister  said,  "  You  must  finish  with  such  i  deli- 
cious present  of  Uncle  Pumblechook's,  a  savoury  pork  pie  ! " 
She  went  out  to  the  pantry  to  get  it.  I  am  not  certain 
whether  I  uttered  a  shrill  yell  of  terror  merely  in  spirit  or  in  the 
hearing  of  the  company.  I  felt  that  I  must  run  away,  so  I 
released  the  leg  of  the  table  and  ran  for  my  life.  But  at  the 
door,  I  ran  head  foremost  into  a  party  of  soldiers  ringing 
down  the  butt-ends  of  their  muskets  on  our  doorstep.  This 
apparition  caused  the  dinner  party  to  rise  hastily,  while  Mrs. 
Joe  who  was  re-entering  the  kitchen,  empty-handed,  stopped 
short  in  her  lament  of  "  Gracious  goodness,  gracious  me, 
what  *s  gone  —  with  the  —  pie  !  "  and  stared  at  the  visitors. 

Further  acquaintance  with  the  military  gentlemen  proved 
that  they  had  not  come  for  me,  as  I  fully  expected,  but  merely 
to  have  a  pair  of  hand-cuffs  mended,  which  Joe  at  once  pro- 
ceeded to  do,  and  while  the  soldiers  waited  they  stood  about 
the  kitchen,  and  piled  their  arms  in  the  corner,  telling  us  that 
they  were  on  the  search  for  the  two  convicts  who  had  escaped 
from  the  prison  ships.  When  Joe's  job  was  done,  he  proposed 
that  some  of  us  go  with  them  to  see  the  hunt.  Only  Mr. 
Wopsle  cared  to  go,  and  then  Joe  said  he  would  take  me. 
To  this  Mrs.  Joe  merely  remarked :  "  If  you  bring  the  boy 
back,  with  his  head  blown  to  bits  with  a  musket,  don't  look 
to  me  to  put  it  together  again  !  " 

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TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

The  soldiers  took  a  polite  leave  of  the  ladies  and  then  we 
started  off,  Joe  whispering  to  me,  "  I  'd  give  a  shilling  if 
they  'd  cut  and  run,  Pip  !  " 

There  was  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  the  man  I  had  suc- 
coured and  the  other  one  I  had  seen,  were  the  convicts  in 
question,  and  as  we  went  on  and  on,  my  heart  thumped  vio- 
lently. The  man  had  asked  me  if  I  was  a  deceiving  imp. 
Would  he  believe  now  that  I  had  betrayed  him  ? 

On  we  went,  and  on  and  on,  down  banks  and  up  banks, 
and  o\  er  gates,  hearing  the  sound  of  shouting  in  the  distance. 
As  we  came  nearer  to  the  sound,  the  soldiers  ran  like  deer. 
Water  was  splashing,  mud  was  flying,  and  oaths  were  being 
sworn,  and  then,  "  Here  are  both  men  !  "  panted  the  sergeant, 
struggling  in  a  ditch.  "  Surrender,  you  two  !  Come  asun- 
der !  "  Other  soldiers  ran  to  help,  and  dragged  up  from  the 
ditch  my  convict  and  the  other  one.  Both  were  bleeding  and 
panting  and  struggling,  but  of  course  I  knew  them  both 
directly.  While  the  manacles  were  being  put  on  their  hands, 
my  convict  saw  me  for  the  first  time.  I  looked  at  him  eagerly, 
and  slightly  moved  my  hands  and  shook  my  head,  trying  to 
assure  him  of  my  innocence,  but  he  did  not  in  any  way  show 
me  that  he  understood  my  gestures.  We  soon  set  off,  the 
convicts  kept  apart,  and  each  surrounded  by  a  separate  guard. 
Mr.  Wopsle  would  have  liked  to  turn  back,  but  Joe  was  re- 
solved to  see  it  out,  so  we  went  on  with  the  party,  carrying 
torches  which  flared  up  and  lighted  our  way.  We  could  not 
go  fast  because  of  the  lameness  of  the  prisoners,  and  they  were 
so  spent  that  we  had  to  halt  two  or  three  times  while  they 
rested.  After  an  hour  or  two  of  this  travelling,  we  came  to  a 
hut  where  there  was  a  guard.  Here  the  sergeant  made  some 
sort  of  a  report,  and  an  entry  in  a  book,  and  then  the  other 
convict  was  drafted  to  go  on  board  the  Hulks  first.  My  con- 
vict only  looked  at  me  once.  While  we  stood  in  the  hut,  he 

198 


p  I  p 

looked  thoughtfully  into  the  fire.  Suddenly  he  turned  to  the 
sergeant  and  remarked  that  he  wished  to  say  something  about 
his  escape,  adding  that  it  might  prevent  some  persons  being 
laid  under  suspicions. 

'  You  can  say  what  you  like,"  returned  the  sergeant,  and 
the  convict  continued  : 

"  A  man  can't  starve,  at  least  I  can't.  I  took  some  wittles 
up  at  the  village  yonder —  where  the  church  stands  a'most  out 
on  the  marshes,  and  I  '11  tell  you  where  from.  From  the 
blacksmith's." 

"  Halloa,  Pip  !  "  said  Joe,  staring  at  me. 

"  It  was  some  broken  wittles  — and  a  dram  of  liquor  —  and 
a  pie." 

"  Have  you  happened  to  miss  such  an  article  as  a  pie, 
blacksmith  ?  "  asked  the  sergeant. 

4C  My  wife  did,  at  the  very  moment  when  you  came  in. 
Don't  you  know,  Pip  ?  " 

"So,"  said  my  convict,  looking  at  Joe,  "  so  you  're  the  black- 
smith, are  you  ?  Then  I  'm  sorry  to  say,  I  've  eat  your  pie." 

"  God  knows  you  're  welcome  to  it,  so  far  as  it  was  ever 
mine,"  returned  Joe.  "  We  don't  know  what  you  Ve  done, 
but  we  would  n't  have  you  starve  to  death  for  it,  poor  miser- 
able fellow-creature,  would  we,  Pip  ?  " 

Something  that  I  had  noticed  before,  clicked  in  the  man's 
throat,  and  he  turned  his  back.  The  boat  was  ready  for  him, 
and  we  saw  him  rowed  off  by  a  crew  of  convicts  like  himself. 

We  saw  the  boat  go  alongside  of  the  Hulks,  and  we  saw 
the  prisoner  taken  up  the  side  and  disappear,  and  then  the  ex- 
citement was  all  over.  I  was  so  tired  and  sleepy  by  that  time 
that  Joe  took  me  on  his  back  and  carried  me  home,  and  when 
we  arrived  there  I  was  fast  asleep.  When  at  last  I  was  roused 
by  the  heat  and  noise  and  lights,  Joe  was  relating  the  story  of 
our  expedition  and  of  the  convict's  confession  of  his  theft  from 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

our  pantry.  This  was  all  I  heard  that  night,  for  my  sister 
clutched  me,  as  a  slumbrous  offence  to  the  company's  eye- 
sight, and  assisted  me  very  forcefully  up  to  bed,  and  after  that 
the  subject  of  the  convict  and  the  robbery  was  only  mentioned 
on  a  few  occasions  when  something  brought  it  to  mind.  In 
regard  to  my  part  of  it,  I  do  not  recall  any  tenderness  of  con- 
science in  reference  to  Mrs.  Joe,  when  the  fear  of  being  found 
out  was  lifted  off  me.  But  I  dearly  loved  Joe,  and  it  was  on 
my  mind  that  I  ought  to  tell  him  the  whole  truth.  And  yet  I 
did  not,  fearing  that  I  might  lose  his  love  and  confidence,  and 
that  he  would  think  me  worse  than  I  really  was.  And  so  he 
never  heard  the  truth  of  the  matter.  At  this  time  I  was  only 
odd-boy  about  the  forge,  or  errand  boy  for  any  neighbour  who 
wanted  a  job  done,  and  in  the  evenings  I  went  to  a  school  kept 
by  Mr.  Wopsle's  great-aunt,  who  used  to  go  to  sleep  from  six 
to  seven  every  evening,  in  the  society  of  youth  who  paid  two- 
pence per  week  each  for  the  improving  opportunity  of  seeing 
her  do  it.  With  her  assistance,  and  the  help  of  her  grand- 
daughter, Biddy,  I  struggled  through  the  alphabet,  as  if  it  had 
been  a  bramble  bush,  getting  considerably  worried  and  scratched 
by  each  letter.  After  that,  the  nine  figures  began  to  add  to  my 
misery,  but  at  last  I  began  to  read,  write,  and  cipher  on  the 
smallest  scale. 

One  night,  about  a  year  after  our  hunt  for  the  convicts,  Joe 
and  I  sat  together  in  the  chimney  corner  while  I  struggled  with 
a  letter  which  I  was  writing  on  my  slate  to  Joe,  for  practice. 
As  we  sat  there,  Joe  made  the  fire  and  swept  the  hearth,  for  we 
were  momentarily  expecting  Mrs.  Joe.  It  was  market  day, 
and  she  had  gone  to  market  with  Uncle  Pumblechook  to  as- 
sist him  in  buying  such  household  stuffs  and  goods  as  required 
a  woman's  judgment.  Just  as  we  had  completed  our  prepara- 
tions, she  and  Uncle  Pumblechook  drove  up,  and  came  in 
wrapped  up  to  the  eyes,  for  it  was  a  bitter  night. 

200 


p  I  p 

"  Now,"  said  Mrs.  Joe,  unwrapping  herself  in  haste  and 
excitement,  "if  this  boy  ain't  grateful  to-night,  he  never 
will  be!" 

I  looked  as  grateful  as  any  boy  could  who  had  no  idea 
what  he  was  to  be  grateful  about,  and  after  many  side  re- 
marks addressed  to  the  others,  Mrs.  Joe  informed  me  that 
Miss  Havisham  wished  me  to  go  and  play  at  her  house  for 
her  amusement.  "  And  of  course,  he 's  going,"  added  my 
sister  severely,  "  And  he  had  better  play  there,  or  I  '11  work 
him  !  " 

I  had  heard  of  Miss  Havisham,  everybody  for  miles  round 
had  heard  of  her,  as  an  immensely  rich  and  grim  old  lady,  who 
lived  a  life  of  seclusion  in  a  large  and  dismal  house,  barricaded 
against  robbers. 

"  Well,  to  be  sure,"  said  Joe,  astounded,  "  I  wonder  how 
she  comes  to  know  Pip ! " 

"  Noodle,"  said  my  sister,  "  who  said  she  knew  him  ? 
Could  n't  she  ask  Uncle  Pumblechook  if  he  knew  of  a  boy 
to  go  and  play  there?  And  couldn't  Uncle  Pumblechook, 
being  always  thoughtful  for  us,  then  mention  this  boy,  that 
I  have  forever  been  a  willing  slave  to  ? "  After  this  she  ad- 
ded, "  For  anything  we  can  tell,  the  boy's  fortune  is  made 
by  this.  Uncle  Pumblechook  has  offered  to  take  him  into 
town  to-night  and  keep  him  over  night,  and  to  take  him 
with  his  own  hands  to  Miss  Havisham's  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, and  Lor-a-mussy  me ! "  cried  my  sister.  "  Here  I  stand 
talking,  with  Uncle  Pumblechook  waiting,  and  the  mare 
catching  cold  at  the  door,  and  the  boy  grimed  with  dirt 
from  the  hair  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot !  "  With 
that  she  pounced  on  me  and  I  was  scraped  and  kneaded, 
and  towelled  and  thumped,  and  harrowed  and  reaped,  until 
I  was  really  quite  beside  myself.  When  at  last  my  ablutions 
were  completed,  I  was  put  into  clean  linen  of  the  stiffest 


201 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

character,  and  in  my  tightest  and  fearfullest  suit,  I  was  then 
delivered  over  to  Mr.  Pumblechook,  who  said  dramatically : 
"  Boy,  be  forever  grateful  to  all  friends,  but  especially  unto 
them  which  brought  you  up  by  hand ! " 

"  Good-bye,  Joe." 

"  God  bless  you,  Pip,  old  chap  !  " 

I  had  never  parted  from  him  before,  and  what  with  my 
feelings,  and  what  with  soap-suds,  I  could  at  first  see  no  stars 
from  the  chaise  cart.  But  they  twinkled  out  one  by  one  with- 
out throwing  any  light  on  the  question  why  on  earth  I  was 
going  to  play  at  Miss  Havisham's,  and  what  on  earth  I  was 
expected  to  play  at. 

I  spent  the  night  with  Uncle  Pumblechook,  and  the  next 
morning  we  started  off  for  Miss  Havisham's,  and  within  a 
quarter  hour  had  reached  the  house,  which  looked  dismal,  and 
had  a  great  many  iron  bars  to  it.  Some  of  the  windows  had 
been  walled  up,  and  the  others  were  rustily  barred.  There 
was  a  court-yard  in  front  which  was  also  barred,  so  after  ring- 
ing the  bell  we  had  to  wait  until  some  one  should  open  it. 
Presently  a  window  was  raised  and  a  voice  asked  "  What  name  ?  " 
to  which  my  conductor  replied,  "  Pumblechook."  Then  the 
window  was  shut,  and  a  very  pretty,  proud-appearing  young 
lady  came  down  with  keys  in  her  hand.  She  opened  the  gate 
to  let  me  in,  and  Uncle  Pumblechook  was  about  to  follow, 
when  the  young  lady  remarked  that  Miss  Havisham  did  not 
wish  to  see  him.  She  said  it  in  such  an  undiscussible  way  that 
Uncle  Pumblechook  dared  not  protest,  and  so  I  followed  my 
young  guide  in  alone  and  crossed  the  court-yard.  We  entered 
the  house  by  a  side  door  —  the  great  front  entrance  had  chains 
across  it — and  we  went  through  many  passages,  and  up  a 
staircase,  in  the  dark  except  for  a  single  candle.  At  last  we 
came  to  the  door  of  a  room,  and  she  said,  "  Go  in." 

I  answered,  more  in  shyness  than  politeness,  "  After  you, 

202 


PIP 

miss."  But  she  answered,  "  Don't  be  ridiculous,  boy  ;  I  am 
not  going  in,"  and  scornfully  walked  away,  and  what  was 
worse,  took  the  candle  with  her. 

This  was  most  uncomfortable,  and  I  was  half  afraid. 
However,  there  was  only  one  thing  to  be  done,  so  I  knocked 
at  the  door,  and  was  told  from  within  to  enter.  I  entered  and 
found  myself  in  a  pretty,  large  room,  well  lighted  with  wax 
candles.  No  glimpse  of  daylight  was  to  be  seen  in  it.  It 
was  a  dressing-room,  as  I  supposed  from  the  furniture,  though 
much  of  it  was  of  forms  and  uses  quite  unknown  to  me  then. 
But  prominent  in  it  was  a  draped  table  with  a  gilded  looking- 
glass,  and  that  I  made  out  to  be  a  fine  lady's  dressing-table. 

In  an  arm  chair  sat  the  strangest  lady  I  have  ever  seen  or 
shall  ever  see.  She  was  dressed  in  rich  white  —  in  satin  and 
lace  and  silks  —  all  of  white.  Even  her  shoes  were  white,  and 
she  had  a  long  white  veil  dependent  from  her  hair,  and  bridal 
flowers  in  her  hair,  —  and  the  hair,  too,  was  white.  Some 
bright  jewels  sparkled  on  her  neck  and  hands  and  others  lay 
sparkling  on  the  table.  Dresses,  less  splendid  than  the  one 
she  wore,  and  half-packed  trunks,  were  scattered  about.  She 
had  but  one  shoe  on  and  the  other  was  on  the  table  near  by 
—  her  veil  was  but  half  arranged ;  her  watch  and  chain  were 
not  put  on  ;  and  there  were  lace,  trinkets,  handkerchief,  gloves, 
some  flowers,  and  a  Prayer-book  in  a  heap  before  the  looking- 
glass.  Then  she  spoke,  "  Who  is  it  ?  " 

"  Pip,  ma'am." 

"  Pip  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Pumblechook's  boy,  ma'am.     Come  —  to  play." 

"  Come  nearer ;  let  me  look  at  you.     Come  close." 

When  I  stood  before  her,  avoiding  her  eyes,  I  took  in  all 
the  details  of  the  room  and  saw  that  her  watch  and  clock  had 
both  stopped. 

"  Look  at  me,"  said  Miss  Havisham.  "  You  are  not 

203 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

afraid  of  a  woman  who  has  not  seen  the  sun  since  you  were 
born  ?  " 

I  regret  to  say  that  I  was  not  afraid  of  telling  the  enormous 
lie  comprehended  in  the  answer,  "  No." 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  touch  here  ?  "  she  said,  laying  her 
hands  on  her  left  side. 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  What  do  I  touch  ?  " 

"  Your  heart." 

"  Broken." 

She  said  the  word  eagerly,  and  with  a  weird  smile  that  had 
a  kind  of  boast  in  it. 

"  I  am  tired,"  said  Miss  Havisham.  "  I  have  a  sick  fancy 
that  I  want  to  see  some  play.  I  want  diversion,  and  I  have 
done  with  men  and  women.  There,  there,"  with  an  impa- 
tient movement  of  the  fingers  of  her  right  hand,  "  play,  play, 
play  !  " 

For  a  moment,  with  the  fear  of  my  sister  "  working  me  " 
before  my  eyes,  I  had  a  desperate  idea  of  starting  round  the 
room  in  the  assumed  character  of  Mr.  Pumblechook's  chaise 
cart.  But  I  felt  so  unequal  to  the  performance  that  I  gave  it 
up,  and  stood  looking  at  Miss  Havisham  in  what  I  suppose 
she  took  for  a  dogged  manner,  and  presently  she  said  : 

"  Are  you  sullen  and  obstinate  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,"  I  said.  "  I  am  very  sorry  for  you  and 
very  sorry  I  can't  play  just  now.  If  you  complain  of  me,  I 
shall  get  into  trouble  with  my  sister,  so  I  would  do  it,  if  I 
could,  but  it's  new  here,  and  so  strange  and  so  fine,  and  — 
melancholy."  I  stopped,  fearing  I  might  have  said  too  much, 
and  we  took  another  look  at  each  other.  Before  she  spoke 
again,  she  looked  at  herself  in  the  glass,  then  she  turned,  and 
flashing  a  look  at  me,  said,  "  Call  Estella.  You  can  do  that. 
Call  Estella.  At  the  door." 

204 


PIP 

To  stand  in  the  dark  in  the  mysterious  passage  of  an  un- 
known house,  bawling  "  Estella "  to  a  scornful  young  lady 
neither  visible  nor  responsive,  and  feeling  it  a  dreadful  liberty 
to  roar  out  her  name,  was  almost  as  bad  as  playing  to  order. 
But  she  answered  at  last,  and  her  light  came  trembling  along 
the  dark  passage,  like  a  star.  Miss  Havisham  beckoned  her 
to  come  close  to  her,  took  up  a  jewel,  and  tried  its  effect 
against  the  pretty  brown  hair.  "  Your  own,  one  day,  my 
dear,"  she  said,  "  and  you  will  use  it  well.  Let  me  see  you 
play  cards  with  this  boy." 

"  With  this  boy  !  Why,  he  is  a  common  labouring  boy  !  " 
then  she  asked,  with  greatest  disdain,  "What  do  you  play, 
boy?" 

"  Nothing  but  f  beggar  my  neighbour,'  miss." 

"  Beggar  him,"  said  Miss  Havisham  to  Estella.  So  we 
sat  down  to  cards,  and  Miss  Havisham  sat,  corpse-like,  watch- 
ing as  we  played. 

"  He  calls  the  knaves  Jacks,  this  boy,"  said  Estella,  with 
disdain,  before  the  first  game  was  out.  "And  what  coarse 
hands  he  has,  and  what  thick  boots  !  " 

I  had  never  thought  of  being  ashamed  of  my  hands  before, 
but  now  I  began  to  notice  them.  Her  contempt  for  me  was 
so  strong  that  I  caught  it. 

She  won  the  game,  and  I  dealt.  I  misdealt,  as  was  only 
natural,  when  I  knew  she  was  lying  in  wait  for  me  to  do  wrong, 
and  she  denounced  me  for  a  clumsy,  stupid,  labouring  boy. 

"  You  say  nothing  of  her,"  remarked  Miss  Havisham  to 
me.  "  She  says  many  hard  things  of  you,  yet  you  say  nothing 
of  her.  What  do  you  think  of  her  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  to  say,"  I  stammered. 

"  Tell  me  in  my  ear,"  said  Miss  Havisham,  bending  down. 

"  I  think  she  is  very  proud,"  I  replied  in  a  whisper  —  "and 
very  pretty  —  and  very  insulting." 

205 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

"  Anything  else  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  should  like  to  go  home." 

"  You  shall  go  soon,"  said  Miss  Havisham  aloud.  "  Play 
the  game  out ! "  I  played  the  game  to  an  end,  and  Estella 
beggared  me. 

"  When  shall  I  have  you  here  again  ?  "  said  Miss  Havisham. 
"  I  know  nothing  of  the  days  of  the  week  or  of  the  weeks  of 
the  year.  Come  again  after  six  days.  You  hear  ?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Estella,  take  him  down.  Let  him  have  something  to  eat, 
and  let  him  roam  about  and  look  about  him  while  he  eats. 
Go,  Pip." 

I  followed  Estella  down  as  I  had  followed  her  up,  and  at 
last  I  stood  again  in  the  glare  of  daylight  which  quite  con- 
founded me,  for  I  felt  as  if  I  had  been  in  the  candle-light  of 
the  strange  room  many  hours. 

"  You  are  to  wait  here,  you  boy,  you,"  said  Estella,  and 
disappeared  in  the  house.  While  she  was  gone  I  looked  at 
my  coarse  hands  and  my  common  boots,  and  they  troubled  me 
greatly. 

I  determined  to  ask  Joe  why  he  had  taught  me  to  call  the 
picture-cards  Jacks.  I  wished  Joe  had  been  rather  more  gen- 
teelly brought  up,  and  then  I  should  have  been  so  too. 
Estella  came  back  with  some  bread  and  meat  and  a  little  mug 
of  beer  which  she  set  down  as  insolently  as  if  I  were  a  dog  in 
disgrace.  I  was  so  humiliated  and  hurt  that  tears  sprang  to  my 
eyes.  When  she  saw  them  she  looked  at  me  with  a  quick  de- 
light. This  gave  me  the  power  to  keep  them  back  and  to  look 
at  her ;  then  she  gave  a  contemptuous  toss  of  her  head,  and 
left  me  to  my  meal.  At  first,  so  bitter  were  my  feelings  that, 
after  she  was  gone,  I  hid  behind  one  of  the  gates  to  the  brew- 
ery and  cried.  As  I  cried  I  kicked  the  wall  and  took  a  hard 
twist  at  my  hair.  However,  I  came  out  from  behind  the  gate, 

206 


p  I  p 

the  bread  and  meat  were  acceptable  and  the  beer  was  warm  and 
tingling,  and  I  was  soon  in  spirits  to  look  about  me.  I  had 
surveyed  the  rank  old  garden  when  Estella  came  back  with  the 
keys  to  let  me  out.  She  gave  me  a  triumphant  look  as  she 
opened  the  gate.  I  was  passing  out  without  looking  at  her, 
when  she  touched  me  with  a  taunting  cry, — 

"Why  don't  you  cry?" 

"  Because  I  don't  want  to." 

"  You  do,"  she  said ;  "  you  have  been  crying  and  you  are 
near  crying  now  !  "  As  she  spoke  she  laughed,  pushed  me 
out,  and  locked  the  gate  upon  me,  and  I  set  off  on  the  four- 
mile  walk  home,  pondering  as  I  went  along,  on  what  I  had 
seen  and  heard. 

Of  course,  when  I  reached  home  they  were  very  curious  to 
know  all  about  Miss  Havisham's,  and  asked  many  questions 
that  I  was  not  in  a  mood  to  answer.  The  worst  of  it  was  that 
Uncle  Pumblechook,  devoured  by  curiosity,  came  gaping  over 
too  at  tea-time  to  have  the  details  divulged  to  him.  I  was  not 
in  a  good  humour  anyway  that  night,  so  the  sight  of  my  tor- 
mentors made  me  vicious  in  my  reticence. 

After  asking  a  number  of  questions  with  no  satisfaction, 
Uncle  Pumblechook  began  again. 

"Now,  boy,"  he  said,  "what  was  Miss  Havisham  a-doing 
of  when  you  went  in  to-day  ?  " 

"  She  was  sitting,"  I  answered,  "  in  a  black  velvet  coach." 

My  hearers  stared  at  one  another  —  as  they  well  might  — 
and  repeated,  "  In  a  black  velvet  coach  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  and  Miss  Estella,  that 's  her  niece,  I  think, 
handed  her  in  cake  and  wine  at  the  coach  window  on  a  gold 
plate.  And  we  all  had  cake  and  wine  on  gold  plates.  And  I 
got  up  behind  the  coach  to  eat  mine  because  she  told  me  to." 

"  Was  anybody  else  there  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Pumblechook. 

"  Four  dogs,"  said  I. 

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TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

"  Large  or  small  ?  " 

"  Immense,"  said  I.  "  And  they  fought  for  veal  cutlets 
out  of  a  silver  basket." 

My  hearers  stared  at  one  another  again  in  utter  amaze- 
ment. I  was  perfectly  frantic  and  would  have  told  them 
anything. 

"  Where  was  this  coach,  in  the  name  of  gracious  ? "  asked 
my  sister. 

"In  Miss  Havisham's  room."  They  stared  again.  "  But 
there  were  n't  any  horses  to  it."  I  added  this  saving  clause 
in  the  moment  of  rejecting  four  richly  caparisoned  coursers, 
which  I  had  had  wild  thoughts  of  harnessing. 

"  Can  this  be  possible,  uncle  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Joe.  "  What 
can  the  boy  mean  ?  " 

"  I  '11  tell  you,  mum,"  said  Mr.  Pumblechook.  "  My 
opinion  is  it  is  a  sedan-chair.  Well,  boy,  and  what  did  you 
play  at  ? " 

"  We  played  with  flags,"  I  said. 

"  Flags  !"  echoed  my  sister. 

"Yes,"  said  I.  "  Estella  waved  a  blue  flag,  and  I  waved 
a  red  one,  and  Miss  Havisham  waved  one  sprinkled  all  over 
with  little  gold  stars,  out  at  the  coach  window.  And  then  we 
all  waved  our  swords  and  hurrahed." 

"  Swords  ! "  repeated  my  sister.  "  Where  did  you  get 
swords  from  ?  " 

"  Out  of  the  cupboard,"  said  I.  "  And  I  saw  pistols  in 
it  —  and  jam  —  and  pills.  And  there  was  only  candlelight  in 
the  room." 

If  they  had  asked  me  any  more  questions  I  should  un- 
doubtedly have  betrayed  myself  for  I  was  just  on  the  point  of 
mentioning  that  there  was  a  balloon  in  the  yard  and  should 
have  hazarded  the  statement,  but  that  my  invention  was 
divided  between  that  phenomenon  and  a  bear  in  the  brewery, 

208 


p  I  p 

My  hearers  were  so  much  occupied,  however,  in  discussing  the 
marvels  I  had  already  presented  to  them,  that  I  escaped. 
The  subject  still  held  them  when  Joe  came  in,  and  my  ex- 
periences were  at  once  related  to  him.  Now,  when  I  saw  his 
big  blue  eyes  open  in  helpless  amazement,  I  became  penitent, 
but  only  in  regard  to  him.  And  so,  after  Mr.  Pumblechook 
had  driven  off,  and  my  sister  was  busy,  I  stole  into  the  forge 
and  confessed  my  guilt. 

"  You  remember  all  that  about  Miss  Havisham's?  "  I  said. 

"  Remember !  "  said  Joe.     "  I  believe  you  !     Wonderful ! " 

"  It 's  a  terrible  thing,  Joe.     It  ain't  true." 

"  What  are  you  a-telling  of,  Pip  ?  "cried  Joe.  "  You  don't 
mean  to  say  it !  " 

«  Yes,  I  do  ;  —  it 's  lies,  Joe." 

"  But  not  all  of  it  ?  Why,  sure  you  don't  mean  to  say,  Pip, 
that  there  was  no  black  welvet  co — ch  ?  "  For  I  stood  there 
shaking  my  head.  "  But  at  least  there  was  dogs,  Pip  ?  Come, 
Pip,  if  there  war  n't  no  weal  cutlets,  at  least  there  was  dogs  ? 
A  puppy,  come." 

"  No,  Joe,"  I  said.     "  There  was  nothing  of  the  kind." 

As  I  fixed  my  eyes  hopelessly  on  him,  he  looked  at  me  in 
dismay.  "Pip,  old  chap,"  he  said,  "this  won't  do,  I  say. 
Where  do  you  expect  to  go  to?  What  possessed  you  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  what  possessed  me,"  I  replied,  hanging 
my  head,  "  but  I  wish  you  had  n't  taught  me  to  call  knaves  at 
cards  Jacks,  and  I  wish  my  boots  were  n't  so  thick,  nor  my 
hands  so  coarse." 

Then  I  told  Joe  that  I  felt  very  miserable,  but  I  had  n't 
liked  to  tell  Mrs.  Joe  and  Uncle  Pumblechook  about  the 
beautiful  young  lady  at  Miss  Havisham's  who  was  so  proud, 
and  that  she  had  said  I  was  common,  and  that  I  wished  I  was 
not  common,  and  that  the  lies  had  come  out  of  it  somehow, 
though  I  did  n't  know  how. 

14  209 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

"  Well,"  said  Joe  after  a  good  deal  of  thought,  "  there  's 
one  thing  you  may  be  sure  of,  Pip,  namely,  that  lies  is  lies. 
Howsoever  they  come,  they  did  n't  ought  to  come,  and  they 
come  from  the  father  of  lies  and  work  round  to  the  same. 
Don't  you  tell  no  more  of  'em,  Pip.  They  ain't  the  way  to 
get  out  of  being  common,  old  chap.  And  as  to  being 
common,  I  don't  make  it  out  at  all  clear.  You  're  sure  an 
uncommon  scholar." 

This  I  denied  in  the  face  of  Joe's  most  forcible  arguments, 
and  at  the  end  of  our  talk,  I  said, "  You  are  not  angry  with  me, 
Joe?" 

"  No,  old  chap,  but  if  you  can't  get  to  being  uncommon 
through  going  straight,  you  '11  never  get  to  do  it  through 
going  crooked.  So  don't  tell  no  more  on  'em,  Pip.  Don't 
never  do  it  no  more." 

When  I  got  up  to  my  little  room  and  said  my  prayers,  I 
thought  over  Joe's  advice  and  knew  that  it  was  right,  and  yet 
my  mind  was  in  such  a  disturbed  and  unthankful  state,  that 
for  a  long  time  I  lay  awake,  not  thinking  over  my  sins,  but  still 
mourning  that  Joe  and  Mrs.  Joe  and  I  were  all  common. 

That  was  a  memorable  day  for  me,  and  it  wrought  great 
changes  in  me.  I  began  to  see  things  and  people  from  a  new 
point  of  view,  and  from  that  day  dates  the  beginning  of  my 
great  expectations. 

One  night,  a  little  later,  I  was  at  the  village  Public  House 
with  Joe,  who  was  smoking  his  pipe  with  friends.  In  the 
room  there  was  a  stranger,  who,  when  he  heard  me  addressed 
as  Pip,  turned  and  looked  at  me.  He  kept  looking  hard  at 
me,  and  nodding  at  me,  and  I  returned  his  nods  as  politely  as 
possible.  Presently,  after  seeing  that  Joe  was  not  looking,  he 
nodded  again  and  then  rubbed  his  leg — in  a  very  odd  way,  it 
struck  me  —  and  later,  he  stirred  his  rum  and  water  pointedly 
at  me,  and  he  tasted  it  pointedly  at  me.  And  he  did  both,  not 

210 


PIP 

with  the  spoon  but  with  a  file.  He  did  this  so  that  nobody 
but  I  saw  the  file,  and  then  he  wiped  it  and  put  it  in  his  pocket 
I  knew  it  to  be  Joe's  file,  and  I  knew  that  he  was  my  con- 
vict the  minute  I  saw  the  instrument.  I  sat  gazing  at  him, 
spell-bound,  but  he  took  very  little  more  notice  of  me ;  only 
when  Joe  and  I  started  to  go,  he  stopped  us. 

"  Stop  half  a  minute,  Mr.  Gargery,"  he  said ;  "  I  think 
I  Ve  got  a  bright  shilling  somewhere  in  my  pocket ;  if  I  have, 
the  boy  shall  have  it."  He  took  it  out,  folded  it  in  some 
crumpled  paper  and  gave  it  to  me.  "  Yours,"  said  he.  "  Mind 
—  your  own  ! "  I  thanked  him,  staring  at  him  beyond  the 
bounds  of  good  manners,  and  holding  tight  to  Joe,  and  then 
we  went  towards  home,  I  in  a  manner  stupefied,  and  thinking 
only  of  this  turning  up  of  my  old  misdeed  and  old  acquaintance. 

We  found  my  sister  was  not  in  a  very  bad  temper,  and  Joe 
was  encouraged  to  tell  her  about  the  shilling.  I  took  it  out  of 
the  paper  to  show  her.  "  But  what 's  this  ? "  she  said,  catch- 
ing up  the  paper.  It  was  nothing  less  than  two  one-pound 
notes  !  Joe  caught  up  his  hat  and  ran  with  them  to  the  Pub- 
lic House  to  restore  them  to  their  owner,  only  to  find  that  he 
had  gone.  Then  my  sister  sealed  them  up  in  a  piece  of  paper, 
and  put  them  on  the  top  of  a  press  in  the  state  parlour,  and 
there  they  remained. 

On  the  appointed  day  I  returned  to  Miss  Havisham,  and 
as  before,  was  admitted  by  Estella.  As  we  went  up  stairs  we 
met  a  gentleman  groping  his  way  down.  He  was  bald,  with  a 
large  head  and  bushy  black  eyebrows.  His  eyes  were  deep  set 
and  disagreeably  keen.  He  was  nothing  to  me,  but  I  observed 
him  well  as  he  passed. 

Estella  led  me  this  time  into  another  part  of  the  house,  and 
into  a  gloomy  room  where  there  were  some  other  people, 
saying,  — 

"  You  are  to  go  and  stand  there,  boy,  till  you  are  wanted." 

211 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

"There  "  being  the  window,  I  crossed  to  it  and  stood  looking 
out,  at  a  deserted  house  and  old  garden,  in  a  very  uncomfort- 
able state  of  mind.  There  were  three  ladies  and  one  gentle- 
man in  the  room,  who  all  stopped  talking  and  looked  at  me. 
Later  I  found  out  that  they  were  particular  friends  of  Miss 
Havisham.  The  ringing  of  a  distant  bell  caused  Estella  to 
say,  "  Now,  boy  !  "  and  to  conduct  me  to  Miss  Havisham's 
room,  leaving  me  near  the  door,  where  I  stood  until  Miss 
Havisham  cast  her  eyes  upon  me. 

"  Are  you  ready  to  play  ?  "  she  asked. 

I  answered,  in  some  confusion,  "  I  don't  think  I  am, 
ma'am,  except  at  cards  ;  I  could  do  that  if  I  was  wanted." 

She  looked  searchingly  at  me  and  then  asked,  "  If  you  are 
unwilling  to  play,  boy,  are  you  willing  to  work  ? " 

As  I  answered  this  in  the  affirmative,  she  presently  laid  a 
hand  on  my  shoulder.  In  the  other  she  had  a  stick  on  which 
she  leaned,  and  she  looked  like  the  witch  of  the  place.  She 
looked  all  round  the  room  in  a  glaring  manner,  and  then  said, 
"  Come,  come,  come  !  walk  me,  walk  me  !  " 

From  this  I  made  out  that  my  work  was  to  walk  Miss 
Havisham  round  and  round  the  room.  Accordingly  I  started 
at  once  and  she  leaned  on  my  shoulder.  She  was  not  strong, 
and  soon  she  said,  "  Slower ! "  Still  she  went  at  a  fitful,  impa- 
tient speed,  and  the  hand  on  my  shoulder  twitched.  After  a 
while  she  bade  me  call  Estella,  and  on  we  started  again  round 
the  room.  If  she  had  been  alone  I  should  have  been  suffi- 
ciently embarrassed,  but  as  she  brought  with  her  the  visitors,  I 
didn't  know  what  to  do.  I  would  have  stopped,  but  Miss 
Havisham  twitched  my  shoulder,  and  we  posted  on,  —  1  feel- 
ing shamefaced  embarrassment.  The  visitors  remained  for 
some  time,  and  after  they  left  Miss  Havisham  directed  us  to 
play  cards  as  before,  and  as  before,  Estella  treated  me  with  cold 
scorn.  After  half  a  dozen  games,  a  day  was  set  for  my  return, 

212 


p  I  p 

and  I  was  taken  into  the  yard  to  be  fed  in  the  former  dog-like 
manner.  Prowling  about,  I  scrambled  over  the  wall  into  the 
deserted  garden  that  I  had  seen  from  the  window.  I  supposed 
the  house  belonging  to  it  was  empty,  and  to  my  surprise  I  was 
confronted  by  the  vision  of  a  pale  young  gentleman  with  red 
eyelids  and  light  hair,  in  a  window,  who  speedily  came  down 
and  stood  beside  me. 

"  Halloa  !  "  said  he  ;  "  young  fellow,  who  let  you  in  ?  " 

"  Miss  Estella." 

"  Who  gave  you  leave  to  prowl  about  ?  Come  and  fight," 
said  the  pale  young  gentleman. 

What  could  I  do  but  follow  him  ?  His  manner  was  so 
final  and  I  was  so  astonished  that  I  followed  where  he  led, 
as  if  under  a  spell.  "  Stop  a  minute,  though,"  he  said,  "  I 
ought  to  give  you  a  reason  for  fighting  too.  There  it  is  ! " 
In  a  most  irritating  manner  he  slapped  his  hands  against  one 
another,  flung  one  of  his  legs  up  behind  him,  pulled  my  hair, 
dipped  his  head  and  butted  it  into  my  stomach.  This  bull-like 
proceeding,  besides  that  it  was  unquestionably  to  be  regarded 
in  the  light  of  a  liberty,  was  particularly  disagreeable  just  after 
bread  and  meat.  I  therefore  hit  out  at  him  and  was  going  to 
hit  out  again,  when  he  said,  "Aha  !  Would  you  ?  "  and  began 
dancing  backwards  and  forwards  in  a  manner  quite  unparalleled 
within  my  limited  experience. 

"  Laws  of  the  game ! "  said  he.  Here  he  skipped  from 
his  left  leg  on  to  his  right.  "  Regular  rules ! "  Here  he 
skipped  from  his  right  leg  on  to  his  left.  "  Come  to  the 
ground  and  go  through  the  preliminaries  ! "  Here  he  dodged 
backwards  and  forwards,  and  did  all  sorts  of  things,  while  I 
looked  helplessly  at  him.  I  was  secretly  afraid  of  him,  but  I 
felt  convinced  that  his  light  head  of  hair  could  have  had  no 
business  in  the  pit  of  my  stomach.  Therefore  I  followed  him 
without  a  word,  to  a  retired  nook  of  the  garden.  On  his  ask- 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

ing  me  if  I  was  satisfied  with  the  ground,  and  on  my  replying 
"  Yes,"  he  fetched  a  bottle  of  water  and  a  sponge  dipped  in 
vinegar,  and  then  fell  to  pulling  off,  not  only  his  jacket  and 
waistcoat,  but  his  shirt  too,  in  a  manner  at  once  light-hearted, 
business-like,  and  bloodthirsty. 

My  heart  failed  me  when  I  saw  him  squaring  at  me  with 
every  demonstration  of  mechanical  nicety,  and  eyeing  my 
anatomy  as  if  he  were  minutely  choosing  his  bone.  I  never 
have  been  so  surprised  in  my  life  as  I  was  when  I  let  out  the 
first  blow  and  saw  him  lying  on  his  back,  with  a  bloody  nose 
and  his  face  exceedingly  foreshortened.  But  he  was  on  his  feet 
directly,  and  after  sponging  himself  began  squaring  again.  The 
second  greatest  surprise  I  have  ever  had  in  my  life  was  seeing 
him  on  his  back  again,  looking  up  at  me  out  of  a  black 
eye.  His  spirit  inspired  me  with  great  respect.  He  was 
always  knocked  down,  but  he  would  be  up  again  in  a  mo- 
ment, sponging  himself  or  drinking  out  of  the  water  bottle,  and 
then  came  at  me  with  an  air  and  a  show  that  made  me  believe 
he  really  was  going  to  do  for  me  at  last.  He  got  heavily 
bruised,  for  I  am  sorry  to  record  that  the  more  I  hit  him,  the 
harder  I  hit  him,  but  he  came  up  again,  and  again,  and  again, 
until  at  last  he  got  a  bad  fall  with  the  back  of  his  head  against 
the  wall.  Even  after  that  he  got  up  and  turned  round  and 
round  confusedly  a  few  times,  not  knowing  where  I  was,  but 
finally  went  on  his  knees  to  his  sponge  and  threw  it  up,  pant- 
ing out,  "  That  means  you  have  won  ! " 

He  seemed  so  brave  and  innocent,  that  although  I  had  not 
proposed  the  contest,  I  felt  but  a  gloomy  satisfaction  in  my 
victory.  Indeed,  I  go  so  far  as  to  hope  that  I  regarded  myself 
as  a  species  of  savage  young  wolf  or  other  wild  beast.  How- 
ever, I  got  dressed,  and  I  said,  "  Can  I  help  you  ? "  and  he 
said,  "  No,  thankee,"  and  I  said,  "  Good  afternoon,"  and  he 
said,  "  Same  to  you  !  " 

214 


p  I  p 

When  I  got  into  the  courtyard  I  found  Estella  waiting  with 
the  keys  to  let  me  out.  What  with  the  visitors,  and  what  with 
the  cards,  and  what  with  the  fight,  my  stay  had  lasted  so  long 
that  when  I  neared  home  the  light  on  the  spit  of  sand  off  the 
point  on  the  marshes  was  gleaming  against  a  black  night-sky, 
and  Joe's  furnace  was  flinging  a  path  of  fire  across  the  road. 

When  the  day  came  for  my  return  to  the  scene  of  my  fight 
with  the  pale  young  gentleman,  I  became  very  much  afraid  as 
I  recalled  him  on  his  back  in  various  stages  of  misery,  and  the 
more  I  thought  about  it,  the  more  certain  I  felt  that  his  blood 
would  be  on  my  head  and  that  the  law  would  avenge  it,  and  I 
felt  that  I  never  could  go  back.  However,  go  to  Miss  Havi- 
sham's  I  must,  and  go  I  did.  And  behold,  nothing  came  of 
the  late  struggle !  The  pale  young  gentleman  was  nowhere  to 
be  seen,  and  only  in  the  corner  where  the  combat  had  taken 
place  could  I  detect  any  evidences  of  his  existence.  There 
were  traces  of  his  gore  in  that  spot,  and  I  covered  them  with 
garden-mould  from  the  eye  of  men,  and  breathed  more  quietly 
again. 

That  same  day  I  began  on  a  regular  occupation  of  pushing 
Miss  Havisham  in  a  light  garden  chair  (when  she  was  tired  of 
walking  with  her  hand  on  my  shoulder)  round  through  the 
rooms.  Over  and  over  and  over  again  we  made  these  journeys, 
sometimes  lasting  for  three  hours  at  a  stretch,  and  from  that 
time  I  returned  to  her  every  alternate  day  at  noon  for  that  pur- 
pose, and  kept  returning  through  a  period  of  eight  or  ten 
months.  As  we  began  to  be  more  used  to  one  another,  Miss 
Havisham  talked  more  to  me,  and  asked  me  many  questions 
about  myself.  I  told  her  I  believed  I  was  to  be  apprenticed 
to  Joe,  and  enlarged  on  knowing  nothing,  and  wanting  to  know 
everything,  hoping  that  she  might  offer  me  some  help.  But 
she  did  not,  on  the  contrary  she  seemed  to  prefer  my  being 
ignorant.  Nor  did  she  give  me  any  money,  nor  anything  but 


TEN    BOYS    from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

my  daily  dinner.  Estella  always  let  me  in  and  out.  Some- 
times she  would  coldly  tolerate  me,  sometimes  condescend  to 
me,  sometimes  be  quite  familiar  with  me,  and  at  other  times 
she  would  tell  me  that  she  hated  me ;  and  all  the  time  my 
admiration  for  her  grew  apace. 

There  was  a  song  Joe  used  to  hum  at  the  forge,  of  which 
the  burden  was  "  Old  Clem."  The  song  imitated  the  beating 
upon  iron.  Thus  you  were  to  hammer ;  —  Boys  round  —  Old 
Clem  !  With  a  thump  and  a  sound  —  Old  Clem  !  Beat  it  out, 
beat  it  out —  Old  Clem  !  With  a  clink  for  the  stout  —  Old 
Clem!  Blow  the  fire,  blow  the  fire — Old  Clem  !  Roaring 
dryer,  soaring  higher  —  Old  Clem  !  One  day  I  was  crooning 
this  ditty  as  I  pushed  Miss  Havisham  about.  It  happened  to 
catch  her  fancy  and  she  took  it  up  in  a  low  brooding  voice. 
After  that  it  became  customary  with  us  to  sing  it  as  we  moved 
about,  and  often  Estella  joined  in,  though  the  whole  strain  was 
so  subdued  that  it  made  less  noise  in  the  grim  old  house  than 
the  lightest  breath  of  wind.  How  could  my  character  fail  to 
be  influenced  by  such  surroundings  ?  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at 
if  my  thoughts  were  dazed,  as  my  eyes  were,  when  I  came  out 
into  the  natural  light  from  the  misty  yellow  rooms  ? 

We  went  on  this  way  for  a  long  time,  but  one  day  Miss 
Havisham  stopped  short  as  she  and  I  were  walking  and  said, 
with  displeasure  :  "  You  are  growing  tall,  Pip  !  " 

In  answer  I  suggested  that  this  might  be  a  thing  over 
which  I  had  no  control,  and  she  said  no  more  at  that  time,  but 
on  the  following  day  she  said : 

"  Tell  me  the  name  again  of  the  blacksmith  of  yours  to 
whom  you  were  to  be  apprenticed  ? " 

"  Joe  Gargery,  ma'am." 

"  You  had  better  be  apprenticed  at  once.  Would  Gargery 
come  here  with  you,  and  bring  your  indentures,  do  you 
think  ? " 

216 


p  I  p 

I  signified  that  I  thought  he  would  consider  it  an  honour 
to  be  asked. 

"  Then  let  him  come  ! " 

"At  any  particular  time,  Miss  Havisham  ? " 

"  There,  there,  I  know  nothing  about  time.  Let  him 
come  soon,  and  come  alone  with  you ! " 

In  consequence,  two  days  later,  Joe,  arrayed  in  his  Sunday 
clothes,  set  out  with  me  to  visit  Miss  Havisham,  and  as  he 
thought  his  court  dress  necessary  to  the  occasion,  it  was  not 
for  me  to  tell  him  that  he  looked  far  better  in  his  working 
dress.  We  arrived  at  Miss  Havisham's,  and  as  usual  Estella 
opened  the  door,  and  led  the  way  to  Miss  Havisham's  room. 
She  immediately  addressed  Joe,  asking  him  questions  about 
himself  and  about  having  me  for  apprentice  and  finally  she 
asked  to  see  my  indentures,  which  Joe  produced ;  I  am  afraid 
I  was  ashamed  of  the  dear  good  fellow  —  I  know  I  was  when 
I  saw  Estella's  eyes  were  laughing  mischievously. 

Miss  Havisham  then  took  a  little  bag  from  the  table  and 
handed  it  to  me. 

"  Pip  has  earned  a  premium  here,"  she  said,  "  and  here  it 
is.  There  are  five  and  twenty  guineas  in  the  bag.  Give  it  to 
your  Master,  Pip." 

I  handed  it  to  Joe,  who  said  a  few  embarrassed  words  of 
gratitude  to  Miss  Havisham. 

"  Good-bye,  Pip,"  she  said.     "  Let  them  out,  Estella." 

"Am  I  to  come  again,  Miss  Havisham?  "  I  asked. 

«  No  —  Gargery  is  your  master  now.  Gargery !  One 
word  ! "  Joe  stepped  back  and  she  added,  "  The  boy  has 
been  a  good  boy  here,  and  that  is  his  reward.  Of  course,  as 
an  honest  man,  you  will  expect  no  other." 

Then  we  went  down,  and  in  a  moment  we  were  outside  of 
the  gate,  and  it  was  locked  and  Estella  was  gone.  When  we 
stood  in  the  daylight  alone,  Joe  backed  up  against  a  wall, 

217 


TEN    BOYS  from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

breathless  with  amazement,  and  repeated  at  intervals,  "Aston- 
ishing !  Pip,  I  do  assure  you  this  is  as-ton-ishing  ! "  Then 
we  walked  away,  back  to  Mr.  Pumblechook's,  where  we  found 
my  sister,  and  told  her  the  great  news  of  my  earnings,  and  she 
was  as  much  pleased  as  was  possible  for  her  to  be. 

It  is  a  miserable  thing  to  feel  ashamed  of  home,  I  assure 
you.  To  me  home  had  never  been  a  very  pleasant  place  on 
account  of  sister's  temper,  but  Joe  had  sanctified  it,  and  I 
believed  in  it.  I  had  believed  in  the  Best  Parlour,  as  a  most 
elegant  place,  I  had  believed  in  the  Front  Door  as  a  mysteri- 
ous portal  of  the  Temple  of  State,  I  had  believed  in  the  kitchen 
as  a  chaste  though  not  magnificent  apartment ;  I  had  believed 
in  the  forge,  as  the  glowing  road  to  manhood  and  independ- 
ence. Within  a  single  year  all  this  was  changed.  Now  it  was 
all  coarse  and  common  to  me,  and  I  would  not  have  had  Miss 
Havisham  and  Estella  see  it  for  the  world.  Once  it  had 
seemed  to  me  that  as  Joe's  apprentice  I  should  be  distinguished 
and  happy.  Now  I  regret  to  say  that  I  was  as  dejected  and 
miserable  as  was  possible  to  be,  and  in  my  ungracious  breast 
there  was  a  shame  of  all  that  surrounded  me. 

Toward  the  end  of  my  first  year  as  Joe's  apprentice  I  sug- 
gested that  I  go  and  call  on  Miss  Havisham.  He  thought 
well  of  it,  and  so  I  went. 

Everything  was  unchanged,  except  that  a  strange  young 
woman  came  to  the  door,  and  I  found  that  Estella  was  abroad 
being  educated,  and  Miss  Havisham  was  alone. 

"  Well,"  said  she.  "  I  hope  you  want  nothing ;  you  '11 
get  nothing  ! " 

"  No,  indeed,"  I  replied,  "  I  only  want  you  to  know  that  I 
am  doing  very  well  and  am  always  much  obliged  to  you." 
We  had  little  other  conversation,  and  soon  she  dismissed  me, 
and  as  the  gate  closed  on  me,  I  felt  more  than  ever  dissatisfied 
with  my  home,  and  my  trade,  and  with  everything  ! 

218 


p  I  p 

When  I  reached  home,  some  one  hastened  out  to  tell  me 
that  the  house  had  been  entered  during  my  absence,  and  that 
my  sister  had  been  attacked  and  badly  injured.  Nothing  had 
been  taken  from  the  house,  but  my  sister  had  been  struck  a 
terrible  blow,  and  lay  very  ill  in  bed  for  months,  and  when  at 
last  she  could  come  down  stairs  again  her  mind  was  never  quite 
clear,  and  she  was  unable  to  speak.  So  it  was  necessary 
to  have  Biddy  come  and  take  up  the  house-keeping,  and 
meanwhile  I  kept  up  the  routine  of  my  apprenticeship-life, 
varied  only  by  the  arrival  of  my  several  birthdays,  on  each  of 
which  I  paid  another  visit  to  Miss  Havisham. 

On  a  Saturday  night,  in  the  fourth  year  of  my  apprentice- 
ship to  Joe,  he  and  I  sat  by  a  fire  at  the  inn  —  the  Three  Jolly 
Bargemen,  with  a  group  of  men.  One  of  them  was  a  strange 
gentleman  who  entered  into  the  discussion  on  hand  with  zest, 
and  then,  rising,  stood  before  the  fire.  "  From  information  I 
have  received,"  said  he,  looking  round,  "  I  have  reason  to  be- 
lieve there  is  a  blacksmith  among  you,  by  name  Joseph  Gar- 
gery.  Which  is  the  man  ? " 

"  Here  is  the  man,"  said  Joe. 

The  gentleman  beckoned  him  out  of  his  place,  and  said : 
"  You  have  an  apprentice  called  Pip.  Is  he  here  ?  " 

To  this  I  responded  in  the  affirmative.  The  stranger  did 
not  recognise  me,  but  I  recognised  him  as  the  gentleman  I 
had  met  on  the  stairs  on  my  second  visit  to  Miss  Havisham. 
I  had  known  him  from  the  moment  I  had  first  been  confronted 
with  his  bushy  eyebrows  and  black  eyes. 

"  I  wish  to  have  a  private  conference  with  you  both,"  he 
said.  "  Perhaps  we  had  better  go  to  your  house  to  have  it." 

So,  in  a  wondering  silence,  we  walked  away  with  him 
towards  home,  and  when  we  got  there  Joe  let  us  in  by  the 
front  door,  and  our  conference  was  held  in  the  state  parlour. 

The  stranger  proceeded  to  tell  us  that  he  was  a  lawyer, 

219 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

Jaggers  by  name,  and  that  he  was  the  bearer  of  an  offer  to  Joe, 
which  was,  that  he  should  cancel  my  indentures,  at  my  request, 
and  for  my  good.  He  went  on  to  say  that  his  communication 
was  to  the  effect  that  I  had  Great  Expectations.  Joe  and  I 
gasped  and  looked  at  one  another  as  Mr.  Jaggers  continued : 

"  I  am  instructed  to  tell  Pip  that  he  will  come  into  a  hand- 
some property,  and  that  it  is  the  desire  of  the  present  owner  of 
that  property  that  he  be  at  once  removed  from  here,  and  be 
brought  up  as  befits  a  young  gentleman  of  Great  Expectations." 

My  dream  was  out !  My  wild  fancy  was  realised ;  Miss 
Havisham  was  going  to  make  my  fortune  on  a  grand  scale. 

I  listened  breathlessly  while  Mr.  Jaggers  added  that  my 
benefactor  wished  me  to  keep  always  the  name  of  Pip,  and  also 
that  the  name  of  the  benefactor  was  to  remain  a  secret  until 
such  time  as  the  person  chose  to  reveal  it.  After  stating  these 
conditions,  Mr.  Jaggers  paused,  and  asked  if  I  had  any  objec- 
tions to  complying  with  them,  to  which  I  stammered  that  I 
had  not,  and  Mr.  Jaggers  continued  that  he  had  been  made 
my  guardian,  that  he  would  provide  me  with  a  sum  of  money 
ample  for  my  education  and  maintenance,  and  that  he  should 
advise  my  residing  in  London,  and  having  as  tutor  one 
Matthew  Pocket,  whom  I  had  heard  mentioned  by  Miss  Havi- 
sham. 

"First/*  continued  Mr.  Jaggers,  "you  should  have  some 
new  clothes.  You  will  want  some  money.  I  will  leave  you 
twenty  guineas,  and  will  expect  you  in  London  on  this  day 
week." 

He  produced  a  purse  and  counted  out  the  money,  then 
eyeing  Joe,  he  said,  "Well,  Joe  Gargery,  you  look  dumb- 
founded?" 

"  I  am  ! "  said  Joe,  with  decision. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Jaggers,  "  what  if  I  were  to  make  you  a 
present  as  compensation  ?  " 

220 


p  I  p 

"  For  what  ? "  said  Joe. 
"  For  the  loss  of  the  boy's  services." 

Joe  laid  a  hand  on  my  shoulder  with  the  touch  of  a  woman, 
saying : 

"  Pip  is  that  hearty  welcome  to  go  free  with  his  services,  to 
honour  and  fortune,  as  no  words  can  tell  him  !  But  if  you 
think  as  money  can  make  compensation  to  me  for  the  loss  of 
the  little  child  what  come  to  the  forge,  —  and  ever  the  best  of 
friends  — " 

O  dear,  good  Joe,  whom  I  was  so  ready  to  leave,  and  so 
unthankful  to —  I  see  you  again  to-day,  and  in  a  very  different 
light.  I  feel  the  loving  tremble  of  your  hand  upon  my  arm  as 
solemnly  to-day  as  if  it  had  been  the  rustle  of  an  angel's  wing. 
But,  at  the  time,  I  was  lost  in  the  mazes  of  my  good  for- 
tune, and  thought  of  nothing  else,  and  as  Joe  remained  firm  on 
the  money  question,  Mr.  Jaggers  rose  to  go,  giving  me  a  few 
last  instructions  for  reaching  London. 

Then  he  left  and  we  vacated  the  state  parlour  at  once  for  the 
kitchen,  where  my  sister  and  Biddy  were  sitting.  I  told  the 
news  of  my  great  expectations  and  received  congratulations, 
which  had  in  them  a  touch  of  sadness  which  I  rather  resented. 

That  night  Joe  stayed  out  on  the  doorstep,  smoking  a  pipe 
much  later  than  usual,  which  seemed  to  hint  to  me  that  he 
wanted  comforting,  for  some  reason,  but  in  my  arrogant  happi- 
ness, I  could  not  understand  his  feelings. 

During  the  next  week  I  was  very  busy  making  my  prep- 
arations to  leave.  With  some  assistance  I  selected  a  suit,  and 
went  also  to  the  hatter's  and  boot-maker's  and  hosier's,  and 
also  engaged  my  place  on  the  Saturday  morning  coach.  Then 
I  went  to  make  my  farewells  to  Uncle  Pumblechook,  whom  I 
found  awaiting  me  with  pride  and  impatience,  for  the  news  had 
reached  him.  He  shook  hands  with  me  at  least  a  hundred 
times,  and  blessed  me,  and  stood  waving  his  hand  at  me  until 


221 


TEN    BOYS   from    CHARLES    DICKENS 

I  passed  out  of  sight.  It  was  now  Friday,  and  I  dressed  up  in 
my  new  clothes  to  make  a  farewell  visit  to  Miss  Havisham.  I 
felt  awkward  and  self-conscious,  and  rang  the  bell  constrainedly 
on  account  of  the  still  long  fingers  of  my  new  gloves.  Miss 
Havisham  received  me  as  usual,  and  I  explained  to  her  that  I 
was  to  start  for  London  on  the  morrow,  and  that  I  had  come 
into  a  fortune,  for  which  I  was  more  grateful  than  I  could  ex- 
press. She  asked  me  a  number  of  questions,  and  then  said : 

"  Well,  you  have  a  promising  career  before  you.  Be  good, 
deserve  it,  and  abide  by  Mr.  Jagger's  instructions.  Good-bye, 
Pip."  She  stretched  out  her  hand,  and  I  knelt  down  and 
kissed  it, —  and  so  I  left  my  fairy  god-mother,  with  both  her 
hands  on  her  crutch-stick,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  dimly- 
lighted  room. 

I  little  dreamed  then  that  it  was  not  to  her  that  I  owed  my 
Great  Expectations,  but  to  my  older  acquaintance,  the  convict, 
for  whom  I  had  robbed  my  sister's  larder  long  ago.  But  of 
this  I  little  dreamed,  and  knew  nothing  until  years  later. 

And  now  the  six  days  had  gone,  and  to-morrow  looked  me 
in  the  face.  As  my  departure  drew  near  I  became  more  ap- 
preciative of  the  society  of  my  family.  On  this  last  evening  I 
dressed  myself  in  my  new  clothes  for  their  delight,  and  sat  in 
my  splendour  until  bedtime.  We  had  a  hot  supper  on  the  occa- 
sion, and  pretended  to  be  in  high  spirits,  although  none  of  us 
were. 

All  night  my  broken  sleep  was  filled  with  fantastic  visions, 
and  I  arose  early  and  sat  by  my  window,  taking  a  last  look  at 
the  familiar  view.  Then  came  an  early,  hurried  breakfast,  and 
then  I  kissed  my  sister  and  Biddy,  and  threw  my  arms  around 
Joe's  neck,  took  up  my  little  portmanteau,  and  walked  out. 
Presently  I  heard  a  scuffle  behind  me,  and  there  was  Joe, 
throwing  an  old  shoe  after  me.  I  waved  my  hat,  and  dear  old 
Joe  waved  his  arm  over  his  head,  crying  huskily,  "  Hooroar ! " 

222 


p  I  p 

I  walked  away  rapidly  then,  thinking  it  was  not  so  hard  to 
go,  after  all.  But  then  came  a  thought  of  the  peaceful  village 
where  I  had  been  so  care-free  and  innocent,  and  beyond  was  the 
great  unknown  world, —  and  in  a  moment,  I  broke  into  tears, 
sobbing : 

"  Good-bye,  oh  my  dear,  dear  friend !  "  I  was  better  after 
that,  more  sorry,  more  aware  of  my  ingratitude  to  Joe,  more 
gentle. 

So  subdued  was  I  by  my  tears  that  when  I  was  on  the 
coach,  I  deliberated,  with  an  aching  heart,  whether  I  should 
not  get  down  when  we  changed  horses,  and  walk  back  for  one 
more  evening  at  home  and  a  better  parting,  but  while  I  was 
still  deliberating,  we  went  on,  and  changed  again,  and  then  it 
was  too  late  and  too  far  for  me  to  go  back,  and  I  must  go  on. 

And  the  mists  had  all  solemnly  risen  about  me  now,  and 
the  world  lay  spread  before  me,  and  I  must  go  on.  And  so 
my  boyhood  came  to  an  end,  and  the  first  stage  of  my  Great 
Expectations  was  over. 


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